THE  FIGHT  FOR 
E  ARGONNE 

BENJAMIN  "SX^ST 


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The  Fight  for  the 
Argonne 

Personal  Experiences  of  a  "Y"  Man 
WILLIAM  BENJAMIN  WEST 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 
BY 

BURGES  JOHNSON 


THE  ABINGDON  PRESS 
NEW  YORK  CINCINNATI 


3s> 


Copyright,  1919,  by 
WILLIAM  BENJAMIN  WEST 


•-  •   •• 


df. 


TO  THE  BOYS  OF  THE  37th  DIVISION  A.  E.  F. 

WITH   WHOM   I  WAS  PRIVILEGED  TO 

SERVE  ON  THE  ALSATIAN  BORDER 

AND  IN  THE  ARGONNE 


4i(]:^7;s 


FIGHTING  UNITS  OP  THE 
37th  division 
guard  army  (ohio) 

AND  THEIR  COMMANDING 
PERSONNEL  ON  SEPT.  5th,  1918 


37th  division 
Major  General  C.  S.  Farnsworth 

Commanding. 

Lieut.  Colonel  Dana  T.  Merrill 

Chief  of  StaflP. 

Major  Edward  W.  Wildrick 

Adjutant  General. 

73rd  brigade  of  INFANTRY 

Brig.  General  C.  F.  Zimmerman 

Commanding. 

145th  Regiment 

CoL.  Sanford  B.  Stanberry. 

146th  Regiment 

Col.  C.  C.  Weybrecht. 

135th  Machine  Gun  Battalion 

Major  Charles  C.  Chambers. 

74th  brigade  of  INFANTRY 

Brig.  General  W.  P.  Jackson 

Commanding. 

147th  Regiment 

Col.  F.  W.  Galbraith,  Jr. 


148th  Regiment 
Col.  George  H.  Wood. 

136th  Machine  Gun  Battalion 
Major  John  A.  Logan. 

62nd  brigade  of  FIELD  ARTILLERY 

Commanding  officer  not  announced 

134th  Regiment 
Col.  Harold  M.  Brush. 

135th  Regiment 
Col.  Dudley  M.  Hard. 

136th  Regiment 
Col.  Paul  L.  Mitchell. 

112th  Trench  Mortar  Battery 
Captain  A.  S.  Dillon. 

ENGINEER  TROOPS 

112th  Regiment 
Col.  John  R.  McQuigg. 

SIGNAL  TROOPS 

112th  Field  Signal  Battalion 
Major  Russell  L.  Mundhenk. 

DIVISION  UNITS 

37th  Division  Headquarters  Troop 
Captain  Frank  F.  Frebis. 

134th  Machine  Gun  Battalion 
Major  Wade  C.  Christy. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

Introduction 11 

I.    Five  Weeks  in  a  Flivver 15 

II.    On  the  Move 42 

III.  Our  Invincibles 54 

IV.  Holding  the  Line 71 

V.    Tanks  and  Tractors 83 

VI.    Pen  Pictures 91 

VII.    Moral  Flashes 112 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Ford   Camionette   Driven    by   W.   B. 
West Frontispiece 

Facing  page 

German  Aerial  Bomb  (small) 24 

German  Aerial  Bomb  (large) 48 

Memory  Sketch  of  a  Sector  of  the 
Battlefield,  1918 54 

French  Officer — German  Officer 64 

German  Weapons 94 

Varieties  of  Shells  and  Bombs  (Photo- 
graphed AT  Nancy) 120 


INTRODUCTION 

IT  was  on  the  road  from  Neuf cha- 
teau to  La  Foche,  where  Base  Hos- 
pital 117  was  located,  that  I  first  be- 
came acquainted  with  the  author  of  this 
book.  He  evidently  knew  how  to  run  a 
Ford  camionette,  even  though  it  was  not 
in  just  the  shape  in  which  it  left  the  fac- 
tory. I  remember  that  I  asked  him 
what  he  did  for  a  hving  back  in  the 
States — ^those  service  uniforms  were 
great  levelers — and  he  said  he  was  a 
parson.  "But  now  you  are  a  chauf- 
feur," I  objected.  "Well,  you  see,"  he 
said,  "when  I  first  came  over  they  asked 
me  to  fill  out  blanks  indicating  what  I 
could  do,  and  in  that  statement  I  ad- 
mitted that  I  could  run  a  car.  I  also 
said  I  could  preach.  They  tried  me  out 
as  a  chauffeur  and  liked  my  work  so 
well  that  they  said  they  would  stand  pat 
11 


'  ''  •  •'''  -'^  ''  kNTRDli'uCTION 

on  that;  they  had  never  heard  me 
preach." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  heard  Mr. 
West  preach  that  morning  to  the  boys 
suffering  from  war  neurosis,  or  "shell 
shock,"  in  Hospital  117.  He  had 
helped  them  out  on  former  Sundays 
there,  and  they  sent  for  him  again  and 
again. 

Later,  when  I  was  in  the  Baccarat 
sector,  I  met  a  most  interesting  and 
effective  man  who  was  in  the  Supply 
Department  of  the  "Y"  on  week  days, 
and  conducted  services  in  outlying 
camps  every  Sunday  morning  with 
great  success.  He  had  been  a  circus 
acrobat  back  in  the  States.  What  a 
revolutionizing  influence  war  is,  with 
preachers  chauffeuring  and  acrobats 
preaching!  The  important  point  was 
that  they  were  all  serving  whole-heart- 
edly in  whatever  way  they  could. 

It  was  in  Baccarat  that  I  met  West 
again,  running  his  car,  transporting 
newspapers  or  moving-picture  ma- 
12 


INTRODUCTION 

chines,  or  canteen  supplies,  or  itinerant 
entertainers  such  as  I,  out  over  any  sort 
of  road  toward  the  front  line.  His 
glimpses  of  the  great  war  were  from  an 
angle  of  vision  that  makes  what  he  has 
to  say  in  this  book  well  worth  reading. 
His  duties  took  him  into  every  sort  of 
.billet,  and  brought  him  into  close  touch 
with  many  branches  of  the  army,  as  well 
as  with  all  sorts  of  welfare  work  and 
workers.  I  find  that  he  refers,  in  pass- 
ing, to  that  dramatic  moment  when  we 
stood  on  a  hilltop  and  watched  the 
bombing  of  Baccarat  just  below  us, 
while  the  Boche  machine  passed  very 
close  overhead.  He  does  not  say  that  he 
hid  behind  one  tree  and  I  hid  behind  an- 
other, trying  to  keep  the  trunks  between 
us  and  the  flying  shrapnel.  Nor  does 
he  say  that  he  picked  up  and  carried 
home  a  fragment  which  landed  between 
us  in  the  road,  although  it  came  just  as 
near  to  me  as  it  did  to  him! 

This  started  out  to  be  an  introduction 
to  a  book.    It  is  really  a  personal  ex- 
13 


INTRODUCTION 

pression  of  good  will  toward  one  whom 
I  was  glad  to  meet  and  touch  for  a 
moment  in  that  strange  whirlpool  of  hu- 
man activity  last  summer  in  France. 
BuRGES  Johnson. 

Vassar  College, 

March  3,  1919. 


14 


CHAPTER  I 
FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

^•TTALTr 

JL  A  When  above  the  noise  and 
rattle  of  the  car — for  a  Ford  always 
carries  a  rattle — ^you  hear  the  stentorian 
command  of  the  guard,  instantly  every 
stopping  device  is  automatically  ap- 
plied. 

''Who  Goes  Therer 
"A  friend  with  the  countersign," 
"Advance !  and  give  the  countersign." 
The  guard  at  charge,  with  bayonet 
fixed,  awaits  your  coming.    When  you 
get  within  a  few  feet  of  the  point  of 
his  bayonet  the  guard  again  commands, 
''Haltr   In  the  silence  and  blackness  of 
the  night  you  whisper  the  password  and 
if  he  is  satisfied  that  you  are  indeed  a 
friend  he  says,  "Pass,  friend."    If  he  is 
not  satisfied  you  are  detained  until  your 
identity  has  been  established. 
15 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

No  matter  how  many  hundreds  of 
times  you  hear  the  challenge  ring  out, 
each  time  you  hear  it  a  new  thrill  runs 
through  your  whole  being  and  a  new 
respect  for  military  authority  holds  you 
captive,  for  you  instinctively  know  that 
behind  that  challenge  is  the  cold  steel 
and  a  deadly  missile. 

It  was  a  splendidly  camouflaged 
camionette  that  I  inherited  from 
Hughes  when  I  went  to  Baccarat  on  the 
Alsatian  border.  In  all  my  dangerous 
trips,  by  night  and  day,  it  never  failed, 
and  I  think  back  to  it  now  with  a  ten- 
derness bordering  on  affection. 

My  first  day  on  the  job  I  was  sent  out 
to  five  huts  with  supplies,  driving  my 
own  car  and  piloting  the  men  who  were 
sent  out  to  pilot  me.  Although  they  had 
been  over  the  roads  and  were  supposed 
to  know  the  way,  they  did  not  have  a 
good  sense  of  direction  and  so  were 
easily  lost. 

The  headquarters  of  the  37th  Divi- 
sion were  at  Baccarat  on  the  Alsatian 
16 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

border.  Strasburg  lay  fifty  miles  to  the 
east  and  Metz  fifty-five  miles  to  the 
northwest.  To  hold  this  front,  an  area 
fifteen  to  twenty  miles  long,  was  the 
task  of  the  Ohio  boys  until  they  were 
relieved  by  the  French  the  middle  of 
September  and  sent  into  the  Argonne 
Forest. 

Over  this  area  were  scattered  twenty- 
one  Y.  M.  C.  A.  huts.  The  Head- 
quarters hut  was  at  Baccarat,  which  was 
farthest  from  the  front  line — about  ten 
miles  back  as  the  crow  flies.  The  other 
huts  were  scattered  over  the  area  at 
points  most  advantageous  for  serving 
the  boys  and  up  to  within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  the  line.  We  had  thirty-four 
men  and  ten  women  secretaries.  Our 
farthest  advanced  woman  v^rker  had  a 
hut  all  her  own  at  Hablainville,  a  vil- 
lage where  our  troops  were  billeted  and 
where  Fritzie  kept  everyone  on  the  qui 
vive  by  his  intermittent  gifts  of  high- 
explosive  bombs  and  shells. 

Miss  O'Connor  always  inspired  con- 
17 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

fidence.  It  mattered  not  whether  she 
was  deahng  with  the  hysterical  French 
women  when  bombs  exploded  in  their 
gardens  and  fields,  or  whether  she  \vas 
counseling  with  the  Colonel,  at  whose 
table  she  was  the  invited  guest.  Her 
quiet  assurance,  her  cordial  greeting, 
her  intelligent  understanding,  and  her 
keen  sally  of  wit  made  her  always  wel- 
come. And  the  boys  thronged  her  hut. 
She  did  not  try  to  "mother"  them — ^the 
mistake  some  canteen  workers  made. 
Nor  did  she  try  to  "make  an  impres- 
sion" upon  them.  She  quietly  lived  her 
life  among  them.  No  one  could  long 
be  boisterous  where  she  was,  and  so  I 
always  found  her  hut  a  rendezvous 
where  men  were  glad  to  resort  as  they 
came  from  the  battle  or  from  camp. 

Many  were  absorbed  in  their  reading, 
of  which  there  was  a  good  assortment — 
the  daily  papers,  the  magazines  and  a 
choice  collection  of  books  furnished  by 
the  American  Library  Association. 
Other  groups  were  intent  upon  chess  or 
18 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

checkers,  while  in  the  piano  corner  were 
the  musically  inclined.  Sometimes  it 
was  a  piano  or  a  baritone  solo,  but  most 
often  the  boys  were  singing  "Keep  the 
Home  Fires  Burning,''  "The  Long, 
Long  Trail,"  or  "Katy." 

One  day  when  dehvering  to  the  hut  at 
Neufchateau,  I  was  attracted  by  the 
strains  of  music  that  came  from  the 
piano  in  the  auditorium — the  "Y"  there 
had  a  large  double  hut,  I  sUpped  into 
a  back  seat  to  listen.  A  group  of  boys 
were  around  the  piano  while  others  were 
scattered  through  the  building  attracted 
as  I  had  been.  At  the  old  French  piano 
was  a  small  khaki-clad  figure,  coaxing 
from  its  keys  with  wizard  fingers  such 
strains  as  we  had  not  dreamed  were  pos- 
sible. We  were  held  spellbound  until 
the  musician,  having  finished,  quietly 
walked  away,  leaving  his  auditors  sus- 
pended somewhere  between  earth  and 
heaven.  One  by  one  we  walked  silently 
out  to  our  respective  duties  of  helping 
to  make  the  world  safe  for  such  as  he. 
19 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

One  Sunday  evening  just  at  dusk,  I 
drove  to  our  camp  at  Ker  Avor.  The 
boys  called  this  camp  their  summer 
home.  It  surely  was  an  ideal  spot  in 
the  heart  of  a  pine  forest,  high  up  in  the 
Vosges  Mountains.  It  was  also  near 
enough  to  the  enemy  lines — about  a  mile 
distant — to  make  it  mighty  interesting. 

After  delivering  our  supplies  to  the 
hut  we  went  out  to  where  a  gang  of  sol- 
diers who  were  off  duty  had  gathered  in 
the  forest.  One  was  playing  a  har- 
monica and  another  was  ''jigging"  and 
telling  funny  stories.  Instantly  and 
gladly  they  swung  the  gathering  into  a 
religious  service,  with  songs  from  the 
"Y"  hymn  book  and  a  fine  snappy  ad- 
dress as  a  speaker  stood  on  a  hum- 
mock surrounded  by  the  silent,  thought- 
ful bunch.  The  sky  was  our  canopy 
and  with  the  moonlight  filtering 
through  the  branches  of  the  pines,  an 
indelible  impression  was  registered  on 
every  fellow  there. 

The  boys  were  happy  to  have  us  come 
20 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

and  showed  us  about  their  camp,  in- 
cluding an  ingenious  little  chapel  which 
had  been  built  by  the  Germans  during 
their  occupancy  of  this  territory  in  the 
early  part  of  the  War. 


My  first  near  view  of  the  Boche 
trenches  came  one  day  when,  waiting 
for  our  movie  man  at  one  of  the  huts, 
I  went  out  ^'masked  and  helmeted"  to 
a  hill  between  our  first  and  second  lines. 
The  peculiar  "chills"  and  "thrills"  of 
first  sensations  are  indescribable.  Cau- 
tiously and  with  some  inward  trembling 
I  followed  Private  Van  Vohet,  of  the 
146th  Infantry  (Colonel  Weybrecht's 
Regiment),  across  a  shell-torn  field 
where  twisted  wire  entanglements  told 
of  former  fierce  encounters.  We  passed 
a  Stokes  mortar  battery  of  the  147th 
Infantry  concealed  in  low  bushes.  The 
boys,  lying  idly  in  their  dog-tents,  wove 
canes  from  willow  branches  wound  with 
wire  and  capped  with  bullets.  I  was 
presented  with  a  cane  by  Private  Booth- 
21 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

by  and   a   swagger   stick  by   Private 
Rhoades. 

A  five  minute  walk  brought  us  to  the 
"alert  zone,"  where  gas  masks  must  be 
adjusted  and  ready  for  instant  use. 
The  guard  at  the  crossroad  allowed  us 
to  pass  with  the  warning,  "Keep  under 
cover  or  you  will  draw  the  fire  of  the 
Boche  snipers."  So  we  crawled  through 
a  hole  in  the  camouflaged  screen  which 
protected  the  road  from  German  ob- 
servers, and  keeping  behind  clumps  of 
bushes  we  peered  through  at  the 
trenches  just  across  the  valley,  in  which 
Hun  rifles  lay  cocked  and  primed  for 
any  American  who  would  dare  become 
a  target.  I  confess  I  breathed  easier 
when  we  got  safely  back  to  the  " Y"  hut. 

Night  Bombing 

For  four  nights  in  succession  Boche 
planes  had  been  trying  to  drop  bombs 
on  the  rail-head  where  troop  trains  were 
being  loaded  near  our  Headquarters. 
On  the  fourth  night,  when  returning 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

from  a  front  line  hut  with  Secretary 
Johnson,  who  in  America  was  a  pro- 
fessor in  Vassar  College,  we  stopped  on 
a  high  ridge  overlooking  the  battle  hne. 
This  was  a  favorite  rendezvous  on  my 
return  from  night  deliveries,  as  it  gave 
a  wonderful  panoramic  view  of  the 
whole  front  line  for  miles  in  either  direc- 
tion. The  flashes  of  the  guns,  the  daz- 
zling brilliancy  of  the  star  shells,  the 
long  lines  of  varicolored  signals  as  they 
went  up  from  many  camps  and  out- 
posts, and  the  flares  dropped  from 
scores  of  planes,  passing  and  repassing 
in  the  darkness  overhead,  can  never  be 
forgotten.  It  was  a  nightly  and  won- 
derful Fourth  of  July  celebration,  en- 
hanced by  the  weirdness  and  danger  of 
actual  warfare. 

As  we  stood  this  night,  silhouetted 
against  the  moonht  sky,  wearing  our 
"tin"  hats  and  with  gas  masks  at 
"alert,"  suddenly  out  of  the  night 
loomed  a  German  plane,  flying  low,  the 
Boche  engine  distinguished  by  its  own 
^3 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

peculiar  throb.  As  it  passed  over  our 
heads  it  dropped  a  red  flare  and  pro- 
ceeded toward  Baccarat.  Evidently,  it 
had  discovered  our  signals  for  that  night 
and  was  using  them.  As  soon  as  its  de- 
ception was  discovered  our  gunners 
opened  fire,  but  not  until  it  had  dropped 
four  bombs  on  the  town  and  gotten 
away  in  safety  toward  the  German  lines. 
The  explosions  from  the  bombs  were 
terrific  and  the  flashes  lit  up  the  whole 
sky.  We  took  refuge  behind  trees  as 
shrapnel  from  our  anti-aircraft  guns 
rattled  down  in  the  roadway  and  the 
"ping"  of  machine-gun  bullets  startled 
our  ears. 

When  we  returned  to  town  we  found 
everything  in  confusion.  One  bomb 
had  exploded  in  the  treetops  a  half 
block  from  our  billet  and  had  wrecked 
the  beautiful  mansion  of  the  French 
mayor  of  the  town.  It  also  wounded 
some  American  soldiers  in  a  nearby  bar- 
racks. Another  bomb  landed  between 
two  buildings  at  Hexo  Barracks,  killing 


GERMAN   AERIAL    BOMB 
(Small) 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

three  of  our  boys  and  one  French  poilu, 
besides  wounding  many  and  shattering 
the  buildings.  Four  horses  were  killed 
by  pieces  of  shrapnel,  and  when  looking 
over  the  scene  of  destruction  the  next 
morning  I  noticed  a  hole,  clean  cut, 
through  a  half -inch  steel  tire  on  a  near- 
by cart.  It  had  been  cut  by  a  piece  of 
shrapnel  about  an  inch  long  which  had 
also  gone  through  spokes  and  hub  and 
buried  itself  in  the  ground. 

At  four  o'clock  one  day,  after  the 
regular  round  of  hut  deliveries,  a  special 
order  was  handed  me  from  our  chief  for 
immediate  execution.  In  ten  minutes 
I  was  off  in  my  ever-faithful  flivver. 
My  order  took  me  to  Reherrey,  a  village 
near  the  line,  where  a  special  pass  was 
secured  from  the  commanding  officer, 
allowing  me  to  go  over  a  dangerous  road 
exposed  to  the  German  guns.  From 
the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  Hut  at  Reherrey,  I 
took  with  me  a  new  secretary,  a  Congre- 
gational minister  from  the  Middle 
West,  to  relieve  McGuffy,  the  secretary 
25 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

at  St.  Pole,  whom  I  was  to  bring  back 
to  headquarters. 

When  we  reached  the  hut  at  St. 
Pole,  the  secretaries,  including  Mc- 
Guffy,  were  out  at  the  front  with  sup- 
phes  for  the  boys.  While  waiting  for 
them  to  return  we  strolled  about 
through  the  desolate  remnants  of  this 
old  peasant  village.  My  companion  had 
not  been  under  fire  before,  so  when  the 
first  shell  from  the  Boche  "heavies" 
came  whistling  and  whining  toward  us 
he  hastened  to  the  dugout  saying, 
"This  is  no  place  for  me."  He  was 
ashamed  of  his  own  fear  and  proved  that 
he  was  a  "regular  guy"  by  joining  in  the 
laugh  and  jibes  of  the  fellows.  Being 
reassured  by  the  passing  of  several 
shells  safely  overhead,  he  rejoined  me  in 
our  tramp  through  the  village.  Every 
portable  thing  of  value  had  been  carried 
off  by  the  Huns  and  what  was  left  had 
been  destroyed.  Stoves  had  been 
broken  down  and  beds  and  furniture 
demolished. 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

When  McGuffy  got  back  we  started 
for  Baccarat.  It  was  a  stormy  night, 
black  as  ink,  and  we  had  to  go  over 
roads  which  the  bombardment  of  the 
early  evening  had  torn  up.  It  took  two 
horn's  to  go  eight  miles.  When  we  ar- 
rived we  found  an  anxious  group  of 
"Y"  workers  discussing  the  probability 
of  our  having  been  blown  to  pieces  or 
captured  by  the  Boche,  and  they  were 
just  about  to  send  out  a  searching  party. 


No  soldiers  ever  had  anything  on  the 
boys  from  the  Buckeye  State.  They 
had  been  sent  to  the  Alsatian  border  to 
hold  the  line  against  a  threatening  foe. 
Persistent  rumors  told  of  a  German 
drive  on  this  sector.  Nothing  but  our 
men  and  guns  and  a  few  hastily  con- 
structed wire  entanglements  stood  in 
their  way.  And  the  German  army  had 
a  name  for  sweeping  right  through  such 
open  country  and  taking  what  it 
wanted.  But  many  things  caused  Fritz 
27 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

to  stop  and  think.  The  German  raiding 
parties  were  failures.  Only  two  out  of 
a  score  succeeded  in  getting  the  Amer- 
icans. That  meant  that  the  Yankee 
out-posts  were  not  only  on  the  job  but 
also  that  they  were  absolutely  fearless 
and  able  to  capture  single-handed 
superior  numbers  of  the  enemy. 

Then,  one  night  just  as  the  Germans 
seemed  to  be  concentrating  on  a  danger- 
ous sahent,  eighty  of  our  big  guns  in  a 
couple  of  hours  coughed  up  twelve 
hundred  tons  of  gas  and  spit  it  in  the 
faces  of  an  enemy  that  dared  to  think  it 
could  fool  with  Uncle  Sam's  boys  from 
Ohio.  For  two  days  after,  the  Boche 
were  carrying  their  dead  out  of  that 
area. 

No  more  threats  of  a  German  drive 
were  heard  in  that  sector,  but  reports 
came  frequently  of  Boche  prisoners  and 
deserters  who  offered  to  surrender  whole 
companies  of  Huns  if  they  could  only 
be  guaranteed  that  the  Americans 
would  spare  their  hves, 
28 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVA^ER 

Major  H,  a  friend  of  old  college  days, 
was  a  staff  officer  of  the  37th  Division 
and  was  as  brave  as  he  was  big.  His 
clear  brain  and  military  genius  laid 
out  our  machine-gun  nests.  He  had 
studied  carefully  every  foot  of  ground 
and  planted  machine  guns  wherever 
they  could  command  an  enemy  advance 
or  night  raid.  The  direct  and  crossfire 
of  these  guns  were  so  coordinated  that 
many  guns  could  play  upon  a  danger- 
ous enemy  approach.  It  was  a  most 
exciting  chess  game  which  was  being 
played  with  real  armies  and  men. 

The  Petty  Post  was  the  strategic 
point  of  our  army  out  in  No  Man's 
Land,  and  signals  from  the  post  would 
give  warning  of  any  sudden  move  of  the 
enemy.  Its  location  was  changed  from 
time  to  time. 

On  August  27,  at  7 :30  p.  m.^  we  left 
headquarters  in  the  official  car.  Two 
chauffeurs  who  knew  every  shell-hole  in 
the  roads  and  who  could  feel  their  way 
in  the  darkness  were  in  the  front  seat. 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

Major  Hazlett  and  another  major  who 
was  inspecting  trench  conditions  and 
personal  equipment  were  on  either  side 
of  me  in  the  back  seat.  The  powerful 
motor  ''purring"  quietly  waited  Major 
Hazlett's  "We're  off."  Quickly  the 
eight  kilometers  to  the  field  headquar- 
ters of  Colonel  Galbraith,  147th  Regi- 
ment, were  covered.  After  cordial 
greetings  the  Major  was  closeted  in 
secret  conference  with  the  Colonel.  In 
a  half  hour  we  were  off  again.  Major 
Hazlett  alone  knew  his  objective. 
That  night  it  was  the  sector  near  Heber- 
viller.  The  captain's  headquarters  was 
a  little  frame  shack  eight  by  ten  feet, 
carefully  guarded  in  the  heart  of  a 
dense  woods.  The  sentry  at  the  door 
demanded  the  password.  In  the  weird 
candlelight  were  the  captain  and  four 
aides.  We  sat  on  empty  boxes  and  the 
edge  of  a  table.  Rimners  coming  in  out 
of  the  blackness  of  the  forest  stood  at 
attention  while  they  communicated  their 
secret  information  and  awaited  further 
30 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

orders.  Here  investigations  were  made 
and  all  the  latest  "dope"  on  possible 
enemy  action  was  obtained. 

It  was  gratifying  to  note  the  solici- 
tude of  the  officers  for  the  comfort  of 
the  men.  It  was  early  fall  and  the 
nights  were  cool. 

"Captain,"  said  the  Major,  "how  are 
your  men  dressed?" 

"There  is  no  complaint,  sir." 

"Do  they  still  have  their  summer 
underwear?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"It  is  getting  too  cold  for  that.  I  will 
see  that  a  new  issue  is  granted." 

All  stood  to  salute  as  we  took  our  de- 
parture. When  again  on  our  way  the 
conversation  of  the  back  seat  showed 
that  the  interest  of  these  officers  in  their 
men  was  genuine.    For  example : 

"Harry,  those  boys  do  not  have  any 
overcoats.  Nothing  but  raincoats  for 
these  cold  nights.  Whose  fault  is  that? 
Can't  you  get  some  action?" 

"They  must  have  them  immediately. 
31 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

I  will  so  report  to  the  Issue  Depart- 
ment." 

Many  times  our  car  came  to  a  sud- 
den stop  as  a  stentorian  '*Halt!"  pierced 
the  darkness  and  our  second  chauffeur 
went  forward  to  give  the  countersign. 
One  weak-voiced  guard  failed  to  make 
himself  heard  until  our  car  was  almost 
past.  Major  Hazlett  was  instantly- 
aroused: 

"What  is  the  matter  with  your  voice?" 

"Nothing,  sir. 

"Then  shout  it  out.  If  this  happens 
again  I'll  have  you  court-martialed." 

"Yes,  sir!"  And  with  a  salute  we 
proceeded. 

Our  last  mile  with  the  car  was  over 
shell-torn  roads  and  past  guards  who 
dared  to  pass  no  man  without  full  proof 
of  his  identity.  Many  German  spies 
had  been  caught  recently.  Through  the 
ruined  village  of  Heberviller  we  passed 
to  the  old  chateau.  Here  we  left  the 
car  with  the  chauffeurs,  and  having  been 
armed  we  started  with  two  guides  for 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

the  trenches.  Every  gun  emplacement 
was  inspected  to  see  if  orders  had  been 
faithfully  carried  out — and  woe  betide 
the  man  who  failed.  The  Major's  inti- 
mate and  technical  knowledge  of  every 
detail  in  machine-gun  fighting,  won  the 
admiration  of  the  men. 

For  three  hours  we  walked  "duck- 
boards"^  through  a  maze  of  connecting 
trenches,  stealthily  and  silently  follow- 
ing our  guides  and  stopping  "dead" 
when  a  star  shell  burst  near  us.  We  had 
secret  hopes  of  taking  prisoner  some 
of  the  "Heinies"  whom  we  could  almost 
hear  breathing  out  there  in  No  Man's 
Land. 

As  we  talked  with  the  men  in  Petty 
Post  No.  10,  the  German  77's  were  feel- 
ing for  some  vulnerable  point  just  back 
of  our  line.  We  could  see  the  flash  of 
the  gun  and  hear  that  pecuhar,  f  ascinat- 


^  Duck-boards  are  sections  of  boardwalk  laid  in  the 
bottom  of  the  trenches  to  keep  the  soldiers  up  out  of 
the  mud.  These  sections  are  about  ten  feet  long  and 
two  wide,  and  made  by  nailing  cross  pieces  to  two 
scantling. 

33 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

ing  *  Vhine"  as  it  passed  over  our  heads, 
and  finally  its  mocking  challenge  as  it 
found  its  target.  One  of  the  men  who 
was  off  guard,  lay  curled  up  in  a  shell 
hole  beside  the  trench,  sleeping  peace- 
fully to  the  music  of  the  guns.  Con- 
versation here  was  whispered,  and  even 
the  illuminated  faces  of  our  wrist 
watches  were  carefully  concealed  in  our 
pockets.  And  every  man  knew  well 
the  reason  why. 

The  sergeant  in  charge  had  a  "hunch" 
that  Fritz  was  coming  over  at  a  certain 
hour  of  the  early  morning.  We  knew 
that  "dope"  coming  from  enemy  sources 
is  often  misleading  and  decided  not  to 
wait  for  the  "party."  The  next  day  we 
learned  that  the  "party"  was  not 
"pulled  off,"  and  our  return  to  camp 
gave  us  a  few  hours  of  perfectly  good 
and  needed  sleep. 

An  Air  Battle 

Boche  planes  overhead  were  so  com- 
mon as  to  excite  little  interest,  but  when 
64 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

in  the  midst  of  a  heavy  anti-aircraft 
barrage,  the  French  children  playing 
outside  our  garage  excitedly  announced 
*'Trois  Boche  avions,"  we  left  off  "tun- 
ing up"  our  engines  and  went  out  to 
watch  them — ^three  specks  high  over- 
head and  out  of  range  of  our  guns. 
L  Suddenly,  from  somewhere  in  the  sky 

r  above,  two  Allied  planes  shot  toward 
the  German  "birds,"  and  a  battle  en- 
sued which  we  could  clearly  see,  al- 
though they  were  too  high  for  us  to  hear 
the  sound  of  their  machine  guns. 

With  terrific  burst  of  speed  one  of 
our  planes  shot  toward  one  of  the  Ger- 
man planes  and  seemed  almost  to  ride 
on  top  of  it,  all  the  while  pouring  into 
it  a  stream  of  machine  gun  bullets,  the 
smoke  of  which  we  could  see.  When 
they  separated,  ours  rose  but  the  Ger- 
man shot  downward,  evidently  out  of 
control,  and  we  held  our  breath  in 
anxious  joy  as  we  watched  him  drop 
two  thousand  feet  or  more.  Then  as  he 
came  through  a  cloud  and  was  hidden 
35 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

from  the  view  of  our  planes,  he  suddenly- 
righted  and  shot  off  toward  the  German 
lines. 

The  next  day  the  same  thrilling  scene 
was  staged  a  little  to  the  south  of  us. 
But  this  time  there  was  no  disappoint- 
ment. The  rapid  "pu-pu-pu-pu-pu"  of 
the  machine  gun  told  us  that  our  pilot's 
gun  was  working  perfectly,  and  a  burst 
of  flame  from  the  enemy  plane  told  also 
how  true  was  his  aim. 

There  can  be  no  more  thrilling  mo- 
ments in  life  than  when  you  are  watch- 
ing bodies  out  of  control  hurtling 
through  space  and  are  breathlessly  an- 
ticipating the  crash.  Your  heart  sus- 
pends operation,  even  for  an  enemy. 
Hun  though  he  was,  he  was  still  a  hero 
of  the  air,  and  chivalry  prompted  a  de- 
cent burial  on  the  banks  of  the  beautiful 
Meurthe.  The  wrecked  plane  furnished 
souvenirs  for  the  many  who  saw  it  fall. 

Hand  Grenades 
The  hand  grenade  is  a  mighty  dan- 
86 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

gerous  weapon,  but  also  a  most  effective 
one  when  wisely  used. 

At  Merviller  I  was  delivering  a  load 
of  supplies  to  the  Y,  M.  C.  A.  hut.  A 
quarter  of  a  mile  to  my  right  a  deaf- 
ening explosion  was  accompanied  by 
a  mass  of  debris  thrown  high  in  the  air. 
"A  German  bomb!"  was  the'  first 
thought.  And  we  waited  expectantly 
to  see  where  the  next  one  would  strike. 
When  there  was  no  second,  I  drove 
around  to  investigate.  On  a  side  street 
I  found  a  crowd  of  soldiers  and  French 
civihans  already  gathering.  The  Red 
Cross  ambulance  had  "beat  me  to  it," 
and  the  surgeons  were  already  working 
over  the  mangled  bodies  of  four  Amer- 
ican soldiers.  The  street  was  littered 
and  unexploded  hand  grenades  lay 
everywhere.  Two  soldiers  had  been 
carrying  gunny  sacks  filled  with  gre- 
nades when  one  accidentally  exploded, 
it  in  turn  exploding  others  imtil  the 
wreckage  was  complete.  A  military  in- 
vestigation would  report  the  cause  of 
37 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

the  accident  and  the  damage  wrought, 
and  thus  an  incident  of  war  would 
quickly  become  history. 

Through  a  German  Barrage 

On  my  last  Sunday  with  the  flivver  I 
drove  with  Secretary  Armstrong  to  our 
hut  at  Pettonville.  In  the  forenoon  we 
helped  Secretary  Reisner  in  the  canteen. 
Then  we  closed,  ate  a  lunch,  and,  loaded 
down  with  cakes,  raisins,  cigarettes,  and 
tobacco,  started  for  the  trenches.  As  we 
neared  the  front  line  the  Germans  be- 
gan shelling  the  woods  toward  which 
we  were  headed.  While  we  did  some 
lightning  calculating,  we  never  slack- 
ened our  pace  but  went  through  to  the 
battalion  headquarters.  There  a  sniper 
volunteered  as  guide  to  the  trenches. 
We  passed  several  company  head- 
quarters and  gave  out  our  supplies  to 
the  men  as  they  stood  in  the  line  with 
their  mess  kits. 

When  we  left  the  first-line  trenches 
we  walked  or  crouched  through  woods, 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

where  the  bark  of  the  trees  toward  the 
enemy  was  riddled  and  broken  by  bul- 
lets, shrapnel,  and  shell;  then  through 
trenches  which  had  been  abandoned  but 
which  ran  far  out  into  No  Man's  Land 
and  furnished  splendid  avenues  to  our 
Petty  Posts.  No.  4  was  the  first,  and 
was  so  exposed  that  only  one  man  at  a 
time  was  permitted  with  the  guide. 
Secretary  Armstrong  went  first.  While 
we  were  examining  the  graves  of  Ger- 
man aviators  who  had  been  killed  when 
their  planes  crashed  to  earth,  a  rifle 
bullet  whistled  over  our  heads.  We  had 
been  seen  by  a  German  sniper,  so  we 
quickly  crouched  low  behind  the  trench 
wall.  I  found  myself  right  over  the 
grave  of  one  of  the  Germans,  and  was 
rewarded  by  finding  on  it  a  piece  of 
German  shell,  grim  paradox  of  the  for- 
tunes of  war. 

We  continued  through  the  trenches  to 

P.  P.  No.  5.    This  was  our  nearest  point 

in  this  sector  to  the  enemy  front  line. 

It  was  difficult  to  get  through  because  of 

39 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

the  mud  and  water  in  the  trench.  In 
some  places,  because  of  exposure  to  the 
enemy  guns,  we  had  to  crawl  on  oin* 
hands  and  knees.  At  the  post  were 
eight  men,  two  at  the  observation  post 
and  the  rest  in  a  dugout  nearby.  The 
men  at  the  P.  P.'s  are  on  guard  forty- 
eight  hours,  and  off  twenty-four  hours. 
After  ten  days  they  are  relieved  and  go 
back  for  ten  days'  rest. 

This  special  post  was  raided  four 
times  during  that  week.  One  report 
said  three  hundred  Germans  came  over 
but  the  men  at  the  post  said  about  sixty. 
One  attack  was  a  surprise  and  they  got 
four  of  our  men.  The  other  times  the 
Germans  were  routed  with  varying 
losses.  The  P.  P.'s  are  only  observation 
posts  and  are  not  intended  to  be  held  in 
case  of  raid,  but  usually  our  boys  were 
eager  to  give  Fritz  all  that  was  coming 
to  him,  and  they  seldom  failed  no  matter 
how  largely  outnumbered. 

There  were  no  signs  of  fear  among 
our  splendid  fellows,  and  while  it  re- 
40 


FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  FLIVVER 

quired  courage  to  be  a  mile  or  more  be- 
yond the  supporting  line,  lying  out  in 
No  Man's  Land,  yet  the  very  danger 
and  the  adventure  of  it  made  a  mighty 
appeal  to  the  full-blooded  Yank,  and 
there  was  never  a  lack  of  volunteers. 


41 


CHAPTER  II 

ON  THE  MOVE 

"/^  VER  THERE"  excitement  was 
^<^  the  normal  condition,  and  the 
real  soldier  was  never  satisfied  unless  he 
was  in  the  thick  of  the  fight.  Even 
"holding  the  line"  on  the  Alsatian 
border  was  tame,  and  the  news  of  Cha- 
teau-Thierry made  the  Ohio  boys 
"green  with  envy."  Their  more  fortu- 
nate guard  comrades  of  the  26th  and 
42nd  Divisions  had  covered  themselves 
with  glory.  Where  would  the  next 
American  blow  be  struck? 

"Anything  doing  up  at  the  front?" 
was  the  first  question  shot  at  every  dis- 
patch rider  or  truck  driver  who  came 
"along  the  pike"  from  the  north.    "The 

whole  d country  is  full  of  Yanks!" 

"Ten  divisions  packed  in  between  Toul 

and  Nancy."    "Never  saw  so  much  am- 

42 


ON  THE  MOVE 

munition  in  my  life."  "Couldn't  get 
through  for  the  traffic/'  Such  reports 
kept  the  boys  of  the  37th  on  tiptoe  of 
expectation.  Would  they  get  a  chance 
for  the  "big  push"? 

Imagine,  therefore,  the  peculiar  thrill 
of  every  man  when  about  September  11, 
it  was  announced  officially  that  the  di- 
vision was  to  be  ready  for  an  immediate 
move.  The  boys  were  to  be  "stripped" 
for  action.  Every  unnecessary  thing 
was  thrown  into  the  salvage  pile.  Mil- 
itary trains  were  placed  on  the  sidings 
in  the  railway  yards  at  Baccarat  to  be 
loaded  with  men,  horses,  and  equipment. 
These  trains  to  move  oS  on  schedule 
time,  about  two  hours  apart,  imtil  the 
last  had  taken  its  departure. 

For  two  nights  steady  streams  of 
French  troops,  ammunition  wagons, 
guns,  and  army  trucks  had  poured  into 
Baccarat  on  their  way  to  relieve  the 
various  units  of  the  Ohio  Division. 
Four  horses,  two  abreast,  would  be 
hitched  to  an  artillery  wagon  on  which 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

was  mounted  a  camouflaged  '75  (three- 
inch  gun ) .  The  heavy  guns  were  drawn 
by  six  or  eight  horses,  two  abreast,  with 
a  rider  for  every  two  horses. 

The  Y.  M.  C.  A.  headquarters  were 
on  the  corner  where  the  two  main 
streets  of  the  town  crossed.  One  night 
about  ten  o'clock  we  stood  on  the  curb 
watching  two  lines  of  men  and  wagons, 
one  from  the  south  and  one  from  the 
west,  as  they  came  together  at  this 
corner  and  flowed  on  through  the  town. 
It  was  a  fascinating  and  weird  night 
scene.  Suddenly  we  heard  a  Boche 
plane.  When  it  passed  overhead  it 
dropped  a  star  shell  which  lighted  up 
that  whole  section  of  the  town  and  re- 
vealed the  long  lines  of  French  infantry 
and  artillery.  The  burned  out  shell 
dropped  just  across  the  street  from  us. 
Evidently,  German  spies  had  given 
notice  of  the  movements  of  troops  and 
scouting  planes  had  come  over  to  get 
information  and  take  pictures.  These 
were  closely  followed  by  bombing  planes 


ON  THE  MOVE 

which  tried  to  destroy  the  bridge  over 
the  Meurthe  and  thus  hinder  the  move- 
ment of  troops,  but  their  bombs  went 
wide  of  their  mark  and  our  anti-aircraft 
guns  made  it  so  hot  for  them  that  they 
could  not  get  near  enough  to  do  any  ma- 
terial damage. 

Many  Chinese  troops  in  French  uni- 
forms passed  through  Baccarat  the  next 
day.  With  military  precision  our  boys, 
relieved  by  these  French  and  Chinese 
troops,  poured  into  the  town  and  were 
quickly  loaded  on  the  troop  trains. 

Three  days  before  the  move  a  secret 
order  had  come  to  the  chief  of  our  "Y" 
division  to  be  ready  to  move  with  the 
troops.  Immediately  all  our  secretaries 
were  notified  to  close  their  huts  and  pre- 
pare their  stock  for  removal.  "Y" 
trucks  were  dispatched  to  bring  the 
secretaries  and  all  stock  on  hand  in  to 
the  central  warehouse.  Where  the  hut 
was  a  tent — and  four  of  the  seventeen 
hiits  were  canvas — our  expert,  who  had 
traveled  for  years  with  Barnum  & 
4)5 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

Bailey,  went  with  the  trucks  and 
brought  in  tent  and  all. 

The  army,  desiring  to  have  the  "Y" 
suppUes  and  men  at  the  front  with  the 
boys,  put  one  or  two  ears  on  each  train 
at  our  disposal.  For  twenty-four  hours 
without  let  up  the  "Y"  trucks,  manned 
by  a  score  or  more  of  secretaries,  rushed 
boxes  of  chocolate,  cakes,  raisins,  cocoa, 
cigarettes,  tobacco,  matches,  and  other 
supphes  essential  to  the  comfort  of  the 
boys,  from  the  warehouse  to  the  trains. 

It  was  an  exciting  game  to  have  each 
car  loaded  when  the  signal  to  move  was 
given.  Sometimes  it  was  a  close  shave, 
as,  for  instance,  when  our  car  on  one 
train  having  been  loaded  we  were  of- 
fered a  second  car  which  was  accepted. 
We  worked  feverishly  to  get  it  ready 
for  the  move.  It  was  half  filled — only 
ten  minutes  remained  before  the  train 
was  to  leave.  Our  big  French  truck  was 
being  loaded  at  the  warehouse  as  fast  as 
willing  hands  could  throw  the  boxes  on. 
Word  was  dispatched  to  rush  the  truck 
46 


ON  THE  MOVE 

to  the  train — ^it  arrived  in  three  min- 
utes. The  train  was  being  shifted  ready 
for  the  move.  Our  expert  driver  (a  rac- 
ing pilot  in  the  States)  was  game,  and 
followed  the  train,  stopping  where  it 
stopped,  while  the  boxes  fairly  flew 
from  truck  to  car. 

Finally  the  French  train  officials  or- 
dered our  truck  away  that  the  train 
might  pull  out.  Our  manager  said,  "Un 
minute,  s'il  vous  plait,"  while  the  boxes 
continued  to  fly.  The  Frenchmen,  be- 
coming excited,  waved  their  arms  and 
cursed  and  threatened  in  their  own 
tongue.  What  we  could  not  understand 
did  not  frighten  us,  and  the  merry  chase 
continued  until,  in  spite  of  our  inter- 
ference, the  train  began  to  move,  and 
with  a  few  parting  shots  at  the  still  open 
door,  our  men  in  the  car  placed  them  as 
best  they  could,  closed  the  door  and 
swung  from  the  moving  train. 

It  was  great  sport,  and  to  hear  the 
cheers  of  approval  from  our  boys,  for 
whom  all  this  energy  was  being  ex- 
47 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

pended,  was  ample  reward  for  our 
fatigue  and  loss  of  sleep. 

The  movement  of  troop  trains  was  al- 
ways a  special  target  for  Boche  bomb- 
ing planes,  and  several  times  during  the 
night  Fritz  tried  to  "get"  us.  Each 
time,  however,  he  was  successfully- 
driven  off  by  our  anti-aircraft  and 
machine  guns.  Whenever  we  heard  the 
planes  overhead  and  shrapnel  began  to 
burst  around  us,  we  would  scurry  to 
cover  underneath  the  cars,  which  gave 
us  protection  from  the  falling  pieces  of 
shrapnel  and  the  machine-gun  bullets. 

Troop  trains  had  a  never  waning  in- 
terest for  civilian  and  soldier  alike.  The 
French  freight  cars  are  about  half  the 
size  of  our  American  cars.  The  box 
cars  were  filled  with  horses  and  men. 
The  horses  were  led  up  a  gangplank  to 
the  door  in  the  center  of  the  car  and 
backed  toward  each  end  of  the  car  with 
their  heads  facing  each  other.  Four 
horses  abreast,  making  eight  in  the  car, 
completely  filled  it,  leaving  only  a  four- 
48 


GERMAN   AERIAL   BOMB 
(Large) 


ON  THE  MOVE 

foot  alleyway  between  them,  where  the 
men  in  charge  of  the  horses  made  them- 
selves as  comfortable  as  circmnstances 
permitted.  Sometimes  the  men  were 
crowded  so  tight  into  the  cars  that  they 
could  neither  sit  nor  lie  down.  Usually, 
however,  they  had  more  room,  and  in 
every  open  doorway  they  sat  with  their 
feet  hanging  outside.  A  jollier  bunch 
of  fellows  never  donned  uniform. 

The  flat-cars  were  loaded  with  gun 
carriages,  ammunition  wagons,  and  field 
kitchens.  On  one  car  of  every  train 
were  three  mounted  machine  guns  with 
their  crews,  in  readiness  for  any  dar- 
ing Boche  plane  that  might  swoop  down 
on  them.  Most  of  the  trains  that  trav- 
eled by  day  were  camouflaged  with 
branches  of  green  leaves  broken  from 
trees  or  bushes. 

When  the  last  train  had  departed  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  we  had  a 
jollification  banquet  of  canned  fruit  and 
fish  with  bread  and  coffee,  first  having 
gone  in  noisy  procession  through  all 
49 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

the  sleeping  quarters  and  routed  out  all 
who  were  snatching  a  'Vink  of  sleep." 
On  the  day  previous  Armstrong  went 
ahead  with  two  of  our  canteen  workers, 
O'Connor  and  Baldwin,  and  a  camion- 
ette  load  of  supplies  and  cocoa  and  set 
up  a  temporary  canteen,  ready  to  wel- 
come the  troops  when  they  arrived  at 
Ravigny.  Dr.  Anderson  in  the  Ford 
Sedan  also  went  ahead  to  choose  suit- 
able headquarters  and  a  warehouse  in 
which  to  store  our  fifteen  carloads  of 
supplies. 

A  "Y"  Motor  Convoy 

At  eleven  in  the  forenoon,  after 
spending  the  morning  packing  and 
loading,  our  convoy  started.  All  driv- 
ers knew  the  route  to  Ravigny,  to  which 
point  all  troop  trains  had  been  dis- 
patched under  sealed  orders.  First  in 
line  were  our  pilots  in  an  Indian  motor- 
cycle and  sidecar.  They  carried  our 
official  passes  which  they  presented  to 
each  guard  en  route.  Then  after  all  had 
50 


ON  THE  MOVE 

passed  they  proceeded  to  the  next 
guard.  Second  in  hne  was  a  Ford 
touring  car  with  our  chief  of  transpor- 
tation and  other  officials.  Next  came  a 
camionette  loaded  with  food  supplies 
and  cooking  equipment,  and  after  it  the 
Renault  truck  (the  writer  driving) 
loaded  with  office  supplies,  cash  boxes, 
and  personal  baggage.  Last  of  all  was 
a  big  three-ton  truck  with  a  miscella- 
neous load  and  trailing  a  small  truck 
loaded  with  garage  tools.  This  was  our 
traveling  repair  shop  in  charge  of  our 
mechanician.  The  rest  of  the  staff  with 
their  personal  baggage  went  by  train. 

Ravigny  is  a  small  town  but  an  im- 
portant railroad  center  from  which 
troop  trains  were  re-routed  to  various 
points  on  the  front  line.  Our  division 
was  ordered  to  proceed  to  Riccicourt, 
a  deserted  and  partly  destroyed  village 
about  twelve  miles  west  of  Verdun  and 
about  five  miles  south  of  Avoncourt, 
where  our  boys  went  "over  the  top." 
The  women  canteen  workers,  much  to 
51 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

their  disappointment,  were  ordered  by 
the  colonel  to  remain  at  Ravigny,  where 
they  could  get  accommodations  and  be 
saved  the  danger  and  distress  of  the 
battlefield. 

At  Riccicourt  officers  and  men  were 
billeted  in  every  building  that  afforded 
any  protection  from  wind  or  rain.  The 
mass  of  troops,  however,  were  on  the 
move  and  bivouacked  or  quickly  set  up 
their  dog-tents,  wherever  the  order 
to  "fall  out"  was  given.  Every  road 
leading  to  Avoncourt  was  filled  with 
the  motor  transportation  of  many  divi- 
sions. Heavy  rains  at  times  made  the 
roads  impassable,  but  in  some  way 
traffic  was  maintained. 

The  Y.  M.  C.  A.  workers  with  the 
37th  Division  were  the  first  on  the  field. 
They  were  the  farthest  advanced;  they 
had  the  largest  stock  of  supplies  and  the 
most  workers  of  any  organization  in 
that  sector  at  the  beginning  of  the  drive. 
From  this  center  a  supply  station  was 
established  at  Avoncourt,  where  hot 
52 


ON  THE  MOVE 

chocolate  was  served  day  and  night  to 
the  men  as  they  were  going  to  and  from 
the  hne  of  battle.  Hot  chocolate  and 
supplies  in  large  quantities  were  also 
furnished  free  to  the  field-hospitals. 

All  secretaries  who  could  possibly  be 
spared  were  dispatched  with  packs  on 
their  backs,  bulging  with  chocolate  and 
tobacco  for  the  men  actually  on  the  fir- 
ing hne.  As  these  secretaries  trudged 
past  the  long  lines  of  soldiers  waiting  to 
"go  into  action"  they  would  be  greeted 
with  a  chorus  of  "Three  cheers  for  the 
^Y'  "—"You  can't  lose  the  Y  Men,"  etc. 

When  in  answer  to  the  requests, 
"Can't  you  sell  us  a  cake  of  chocolate  or 
a  pack  of  Camels?"  it  was  explained, 
"We  can't  carry  enough  for  all,  and 
these  are  for  the  wounded  and  the  men 
on  the  firing  line,"  there  came  invariably 
the  enthusiastic  reply,  "That's  right — 
they  need  it  more  than  we  do." 


63 


CHAPTER  III 
OUR  INVINCIBLES 

TWENTY  years  to  make  a  soldier  1 
Well,  that  depends  upon  the  kind 
of  a  soldier  you  want.  There  were  two 
kinds  in  the  Argonne  Forest  from  the 
latter  part  of  September  to  November 
in  that  last  year  of  the  great  war. 

Four  long  dreadful  years  the  Forest 
had  been  the  impregnable  stronghold  of 
the  Kaiser's  minions.  The  last  word  in 
the  perfection  of  trench  warfare  had 
been  spoken  by  them.  The  most  elab- 
orate preparations  for  the  housing  of 
their  men  and  officers  had  been  made; 
dugouts  of  every  description,  from  the 
temporary  "hole  in  the  ground"  with  a 
wooden  door  and  a  "cootie"  bunk  to  the 
palatial  suite  sixty  feet  underground 
with  cement  stairs  and  floors,  and  with 
bathrooms,  officers  and  lounging  quar- 
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OUR  INVINCIBLES 

ters,  all  electrically  lighted  and  well 
heated. 

Machine  gun  nests  had  been  planted 
in  every  conceivable  point  of  vantage 
from  a  camouflaged  bush  on  the  hillside 
to  the  concealed  'lookout"  in  the  tallest 
treetop.  Cannon  of  every  caHber  had 
been  placed  throughout  the  woods  and 
under  the  lea  of  each  protecting  hill  or 
chff .  A  system  of  narrow-gauge  rail- 
roads sent  its  spurs  into  every  part  of 
the  Forest,  delivering  ammunition  to 
the  guns  and  supplies  to  the  men,  even 
connecting  by  tunnel  with  some  of  the 
largest  dugouts. 

The  Boche  had  not  held  this  strong- 
hold undisturbed.  The  traditions  of  the 
battlefield,  passed  from  lip  to  lip,  told 
of  numerous  and  costly  offensives  by 
the  French  and  English,  but  always  the 
same  story  of  failure  to  take  or  hold  the 
Forest. 

When  the  American  offensive  was 
ready  to  be  launched  the  French  were 
eager  to  gamble,  first,  that  our  dough- 
56 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

boys  could  not  take  the  "untakable," 
and  second,  that  if  by  any  miraculous 
procedure  they  succeeded  in  breaking 
the  German  line,  they  could  not  hold 
what  they  had  taken.  This  did  not 
mean  that  they  doubted  the  courage  or 
the  ability  of  our  men,  but  that  they  did 
have  knowledge  of  the  impregnable 
nature  of  the  German  stronghold. 

On  that  eventful  morning  near  the 
end  of  September,  the  rainy  season  hav- 
ing started  and  the  mud  of  the  Argonne 
vying  with  the  mud  of  Flanders,  our 
guns  began  to  cough  and  roar.  For 
three  terrific  hours  they  spoke  the  lan- 
guage of  the  bottomless  pit  and  caused 
the  very  foundations  of  the  earth  itself 
to  quiver.  Germans  taken  prisoner  by 
our  men  afterward  acknowledged  that 
they  had  never  heard  anything  so  ter- 
rifying in  their  lives. 

Having  sent  over  their  letter  of  in- 
troduction, our  boys  followed  in  person 
with  a  shout  and  a  dash.  Over  the  top 
and  through  the  wire  entanglements  of 
56 


OUR  INVINCIBLES 

No  Man's  Land  they  fairly  leaped  their 
way.  Hundreds  of  tons  of  barbed  wire 
had  been  woven  and  interwoven  between 
posts  driven  into  the  ground.  These 
posts  were  in  rows  and  usually  stood 
about  three  feet  out  of  the  ground.  The 
rows  were  four  feet  apart. 

Then  through  the  trenches  of  the 
German  front  hne  they  swept,  and  out 
across  the  open  country  which  lay  be- 
tween them  and  the  Forest.  The  marks 
of  the  four  years'  conflict  were  every- 
where visible:  the  blackened  and  splin- 
tered remains  of  trees,  the  grass-covered 
shell-holes,  the  ruined  towns  and  the 
wooden  crosses,  silent  markers  of  the 
tombs  of  the  dead.  Besides  these  were 
the  fresh  holes  in  the  fields  and  on  the 
hillside  where  our  guns  had  literally 
blasted  the  whole  face  of  the  ground. 

The  shell-holes  ranged  from  the 
washtub  size  made  by  the  75's  to  the 
great  fissure-torn  holes  made  by  the  big 
naval  guns,  and  which  would  make  an 
ample  cellar  for  an  ordinary  dwelling 
57 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

house.  I  have  seen  horses  which  had 
fallen  into  these  great  holes  shot  and 
covered  over  because  they  could  not  be 
gotten  out  without  a  derrick. 

In  the  Forest  proper  our  boys  en- 
countered machine-gun  nests,  artillery 
pieces  of  every  caliber,  and  the  Boche 
with  whom  the  woods  were  infested. 
Besides  the  opposition  of  an  active 
enemy,  were  the  natural  barriers  of 
deep  ravines,  stony  ridges  and  cUffs, 
and  in  many  places  an  almost  impas- 
sable barrier  of  dense  underbrush  and 
fallen  limbs  and  trees. 

Through  all  of  this,  however,  our 
boys  pushed  that  first  great  day,  ignor- 
ing every  danger  which  they  were  not 
compelled  to  conquer  in  their  rapid  ad- 
vance. When  they  emerged  from  the 
Forest  they  swept  down  the  hillside, 
through  the  gas-filled  valley,  and 
stormed  the  ridges  beyond.  On  the 
crest  of  one  of  these  ridges  was  Mont- 
faucon,  a  strongly  fortified  position, 
said  to  have  been  one  of  the  observation 
58 


OUR  INVINCIBLES 

towers  of  the  Crown  Prince  during  the 
four  years  of  the  war.  Having  sur- 
rounded and  taken  this  stronghold,  they 
swept  on  through  the  next  valley  and 
having  reached  their  objective  ahead  of 
schedule,  dug  themselves  in  while  the 
fire  of  German  guns  pierced  and  de- 
pleted their  ranks. 

Whatever  military  critics  may  say, 
our  hearts  thrill  with  pride  for  these 
heroes,  who  being  given  an  objective 
took  it  with  an  impetuosity  which 
caused  them  to  even  outrun  their  own 
barrage.  And  having  taken  it,  to  hold 
on  for  days  at  whatever  cost  until  the 
heavy  artillery  could  be  brought  up  to 
support  their  line  and  make  a  new  gain 
possible. 

When  the  first  surprise  shock  was 
over  and  the  enemy  reaKzed  that  the 
Americans  were  really  taking  their  im- 
pregnable fortifications,  and  opening 
the  door  for  the  defeat  and  botthng  up 
of  the  whole  German  army,  their  resist- 
ance stiffened  to  desperation,  and  our 
59 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

boys  had  to  literally  hew  their  way  to 
victory. 

In  reciting  my  experiences  with  the 
37th  Ohio  N.  G.,  Major  General  C.  S. 
Farnsworth,  commanding,  I  am  but 
echoing  those  of  every  other  division  en- 
gaged in  that  wonderful  Argonne 
battle. 

The  tragedies  of  the  Argonne  will 
never  be  fully  written  or  told.  Men 
who  have  witnessed  the  butcheries  of 
war  are  liable  to  be  silent  about  the 
worst  they  have  seen.  It  is  the  unspeak- 
able. 

"Sergeant  O'Connor!" 

"Here,  sir,"  coming  to  salute  with  a 
snap. 

"There  is  a  machine-gun  nest  in  the 
top  of  a  big  tree  a  mile  from  here  on  the 
left  of  the  road  leading  over  the  hill. 
Silence  it." 

"Yes,  sir!"  again  coming  to  salute 
and  turning  to  carry  out  the  order  of  his 
captain.  He  knew  the  danger,  but  ex- 
ecuted the  order. 

60 


OUR  INVINCIBLES 

When  this  tree  was  pointed  out  to  us 
we  understood  how  difficult  had  been 
the  task.  The  hmbs  had  been  shot  off, 
but  the  great  trunk  was  unhurt.  About 
forty  feet  from  the  ground  the  hmbs 
branched  and  there  a  nest  had  been  built 
for  the  machine  gun,  which  commanded 
the  forest  trail  and  the  surrounding 
country. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  of 
the  "big  push"  jfive  "Y"  men  started 
with  heavy  packs  of  supphes  to  find  our 
brave  lads  of  the  37th  who  were  some- 
where in  the  Une.  We  were  given  as 
guides  two  privates  who  were  returning 
to  the  front  for  more  prisoners.  They 
had  brought  in  many  prisoners  that 
morning.  I  was  interested  and  drew 
one  of  them  into  conversation. 

"How  many  prisoners  did  you  have?" 

"A  bunch  of  fifty.  We  captured  so 
many  that  first  day  it  was  hard  to  get 
them  all  back  quickly  to  the  retention 
camps." 

"I  suppose  they  were  all  disarmed." 
61 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

"O  yes,  all  weapons  were  taken  from 
them  and  they  were  searched  for  secret 
messages  or  information  which  would 
be  valuable  to  our  army," 

"Were  they  allowed  to  keep  any  of 
their  belongings?" 

"Only  the  clothes  they  wore  and  their 
caps.  Sometimes  they  would  also  keep 
their  gas  masks  and  canteens." 

We  were  on  a  forest  trail.  The  mud 
from  recent  rains  covered  our  leggings 
and  our  heavy  hobnail  shoes.  We  came 
to  a  crossroads  in  the  heart  of  the  For- 
est. Our  wounded  on  stretchers  were 
everywhere.  I  can  see  now  the  ban- 
daged eyes  of  the  gassed  patients,  the 
armless  sleeve  or  the  bared  breast  with 
the  bloody  dressings.  I  can  see  the 
silent  forms  of  those  who  would  never 
fight  again. 

But  my  heart  thrills  as  the  white  arm- 
band with  its  red  cross  comes  out  sharp 
and  distinct  in  the  picture.  Our  doctors 
and  surgeons  were  the  miracle-workers 
of  that  awful  field  of  slaughter.  And 
62 


OUR  INVINCIBLES 

the  ambulance  men  were  the  angels  of 
mercy  to  thousands  whose  hf  e  blood  was 
wasting  fast  away. 

The  "Y"  man  with  his  pack  always 
received  a  sincere  welcome.  There  was 
a  smile  of  gratitude  as  a  piece  of  choco- 
late was  placed  in  the  mouth  of  one 
whose  hands  were  useless,  or  a  cigarette 
and  a  light  given  to  another  whose  whole 
frame  was  aquiver  from  the  shock  of 
battle.  There  were  the  eager  requests 
of  the  Red-Cross  men  for  extra  sup- 
plies for  the  boys  whom  they  would  see 
when  Mr.  Y-Man  was  not  with  them. 

''A  dead  Hun  is  the  only  good  Hun" 
— ^this  was  a  war  definition,  and  true  at 
least  while  the  battle  was  on.  Every- 
where through  the  Forest  were  Boche 
made  "good"  by  American  bullets. 
Near  a  dead  German  officer  was  a 
group  of  our  boys  looking  over  the 
''treasures"  which  his  pockets  held. 
There  was  also  a  photo  of  a  French 
oflScer.  Evidently,  the  Hun  had  earlier 
in  the  war  killed  the  Frenchman  and 
63 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

taken  his  picture  for  a  souvenir.  Was  it 
poetic  justice  that  the  Hun  should  fall 
victim  to  a  Yank  bullet,  and  that  the 
photo  of  his  captive,  together  with  his 
own,  should  be  taken  by  his  American 
slayer  and  given  as  souvenirs  to  a  Y.  M. 
C.  A.  secretary? 

I  was  one  of  a  score  of  "Y"  men  who 
followed  Farnsworth's  division  into  ac- 
tion, establishing  hot  chocolate  stations 
and  carrying  on  our  backs  great  packs 
of  chocolate,  cigarettes,  and  tobacco 
which  we  gave  away  to  the  boys  on  the 
battlefield.  There  we  met  the  wounded 
who,  having  received  first  aid,  were  be- 
ing carried  on  stretchers  back  to  the 
field  dressing  stations,  where  the  army 
surgeons  were  working  feverishly  under 
trees  or  in  protected  valleys.  From 
here  continuous  lines  of  stretcher- 
bearers  with  their  precious  burdens 
moved  back  to  the  field  hospitals. 

On  the  edge  of  the  Forest  near  Mont- 
f aucon  and  about  three  miles  back  of  the 
line  was  the  nearest  field  hospital  in  an 
64 


OUR  INVINCIBLES 

elaborate  system  of  German  dugouts. 
The  location  was  well  concealed  on  a  hill 
thickly  covered  by  forest  trees  and  a 
dense  tangle  of  underbrush.  Much  time 
had  been  spent  by  the  Boche  soldiers  in 
making  it  not  only  secure  but  attractive. 
Rustic  fences  protected  the  wooden 
walks  leading  to  the  main  entrance.  A 
maze  of  paths  as  in  a  garden,  connected 
the  various  entrances  (doorways). 
Long  flights  of  wooden  steps  led  down 
fifteen,  twenty,  and  even  thirty  feet 
underground.  The  deepest  cave  was 
connected  by  a  tunnel  with  the  railway 
system  that  had  branches  everywhere 
through  the  Forest. 

When  we  found  the  head  surgeon  we 
told  him  we  had  chocolate  for  his  pa- 
tients. He  took  us  to  one  of  the  wards 
where  thirty  men  were  crowded  into 
four  small  rooms.  The  odor  of  death 
was  in  the  air.  The  labored  breathing 
of  unconscious  men  cast  a  gloom  that 
was  hard  to  shake  off. 

"How  do  you  stay  here  and  keep 
65 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

sane?"  I  asked  the  doctor  in  charge. 
For  five  days  and  nights  he  had  scarcely 
slept,  and  all  he  had  to  eat  was  what  he 
prepared  for  himself  on  a  little  stove  in 
the  six-by-ten  room  that  served  for  office 
and  living  quarters  of  himself  and  his 
assistant.  "The  boys  are  wonderful," 
he  said,  "and  one  forgets  himself  in  try- 
ing to  save  them." 

As  we  went  from  cot  to  cot  with  a 
piece  of  chocolate  for  each,  gripping  the 
hands  of  some  and  looking  into  the  eyes 
of  others  too  far  gone  even  to  speak,  we 
knew  he  had  spoken  the  truth.  No  com- 
plaint escaped  their  lips.  The  light  of  a 
great  new  dawn  kindled  in  the  eyes  of 
many,  and  their  smile  of  gratitude  for 
the  kindness  done  them  made  the  small 
service  rendered  a  sacrament  sacred  on 
the  field  of  battle. 

Returning  one  evening  after  a  won- 
derful but  terrible  day  with  the  boys  on 
the  front,  we  worked  our  way  along  a 
ridge  where  our  75 's  were  belching  fire 
into  the  ranks  of  the  enemy.  We  were 
66 


OUR  INVINCIBLES 

giving  out  the  last  of  our  supplies  to  the 
crews  who  were  manning  these  guns. 
I  stopped  to  speak  to  an  infantry  major 
who  was  directing  the  movements  of  his 
men  by  telephone  and  messenger  from  a 
former  German  dugout  where  he  had 
taken  up  temporary  headquarters. 
When  I  came  up  he  was  standing  by  a 
gun  looking  out  over  the  battlefield  and 
watching  the  stretcher  bearers  return- 
ing from  the  "hne."  He  had  tried  in 
vain  to  get  more  artillery  sent  forward 
to  support  his  men  who  were  being 
mowed  down  by  the  merciless  fire  from 
the  Boche  machine  guns  and  cannon. 
At  first  his  voice  choked  with  emotion, 
and  then  revenge  took  possession  of  him 
as  he  cursed  the  Hun  for  bringing  upon 
the  world  such  slaughter.  It  seemed  as 
if  his  great  heart  would  burst  as  he  real- 
ized the  suffering  and  the  sacrifice  of 
his  hoys  whom  he  had  ordered  to  hold 
at  any  cost.  His  voice  choked  as  he 
cried,  "My  God,  but  they  are  punishing 
my  boys.'^ 

67 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

As  we  walked  on  in  a  driving  rain- 
storm and  through  mud  and  underbrush 
and  wormed  our  way  amid  wire  en- 
tanglements, we  came  upon  a  field 
kitchen  and  were  invited  to  supper.  We 
gladly  accepted  and  sat  down  in  the  rain 
to  potatoes  and  meat,  bread,  butter,  and 
coffee,  with  a  dessert  of  pancakes  and 
syrup.  It  was  a  meal  fit  for  a  king,  and 
no  food  ever  tasted  quite  so  sweet.  It 
was  about  fifteen  miles  to  our  hut,  and 
darkness  had  overtaken  us.  While  we 
were  eating,  an  empty  ammunition  cart 
drawn  by  four  horses  came  along,  and 
the  sergeant  in  charge  offered  us  a  ride. 
The  offer  was  gladly  accepted  because 
we  had  no  guide,  and  for  two  hours  we 
bumped  over  the  rough  forest  trail. 

On  the  way  we  overtook  many  of  our 
wounded,  who  after  receiving  first  aid 
had  attempted  to  walk  back  to  the 
camps  in  the  rear.  Wherever  we  found 
them  we  gave  them  a  hft  to  the  nearest 
rest  camp  or  ambulance  station.  Some 
whom  we  were  privileged  to  help  seemed 
68 


OUR  INVINCIBLES 

completely  exhausted  and  unable  to 
drag  any  farther. 

When  at  last  the  forest  trail  opened 
into  the  highway  the  going  was  faster. 
When  within  three  miles  of  Avoncourt 
we  were  stopped  by  a  tieup  in  traffic. 
After  a  few  minutes'  wait,  seeing  that 
there  was  no  sign  of  advancing,  we  de- 
cided to  walk  on.  For  two  solid  miles 
the  road  was  blocked,  the  rains  having 
made  the  roads  almost  impassable.  We 
worked  our  way  in  and  out  past  am- 
munition wagons.  Red  Cross  ambu- 
lances, officers'  cars,  and  army  trucks. 
Just  before  midnight  we  reached  our 
huts  at  Avoncourt,  where  hot  chocolate 
was  being  served  to  never-ending  lines 
of  tin-helmeted,  khaki-clad  wearers  of 
the  gas  mask. 

Through  this  town,  now  leveled  to  the 
ground  by  four  years  of  intermittent 
bombardment,  we  groped  our  way  to  a 
temporary  "Y"  supply  hut,  where  we 
hoped  to  spend  the  night.  Upon  open- 
ing the  door  we  discovered  that  every 
69 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

available  foot  of  space  on  the  bare 
ground  floor  was  occupied  by  "Y"  men 
rolled  up  in  their  blankets.  They  were 
so  exhausted  from  their  long  hikes  to 
the  front,  or  their  continuous  serving  at 
the  chocolate  canteen,  that  they  could 
sleep  anywhere.  We  quickly  decided  to 
continue  our  tramp  another  eight  miles 
to  the  base  headquarters,  which  we 
reached  at  three  in  the  morning 
drenched  and  exhausted  and  literally 
covered  with  mud.  After  three  hours  of 
good  refreshing  sleep  we  were  up  again 
and  ready  to  serve  oxu*  boys — ^the  in- 
vincibles. 


70 


CHAPTER  IV 

HOLDING  THE  LINE 

"/^  N  to  Berlin,"  was  the  cry  of  the 
V^  whole  Yank  army.  And  the 
boys  were  impatient  of  every  delay  that 
kept  them  from  their  goal.  They  all 
felt  hke  the  colored  private  from  Ala- 
bama who  was  asked  to  join  a  French 
class:  "No,  I  don'  want  to  study 
French.    I  w^ant  to  study  German." 

After  the  hisses  had  died  down  some 
one  asked,  "Why  is  it  you  want  to  study 
German  rather  than  French?" 

"I'se  goin'  to  Berlin." 

Then  the  hisses  gave  way  to  cheers. 

It  was  that  same  spirit  which  caused 
Corporal  Cole,  of  the  Marines,  to  say: 
"The  marines  do  not  know  such  a  word 
as  'retreat.'  "  That  was  the  spirit  which 
brought  the  curt  reply  from  Col.  Whit* 
71 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

tlesey  when  the  Huns  asked  his  "Lost 
Battahon"  to  surrender. 

The  American  army  was  a  victorious 
army.  It  had  never  been  defeated.  It 
had  faith  in  its  ideals.  Those  ideals 
were  neither  selfish  nor  arrogant.  It 
wore  no  boastful  "Gott  mit  uns"  on  its 
belt.  It  desired  only  the  opportunity  of 
striking  low  that  nation  which  dared  to 
dictate  terms  to  the  Almighty  as  well 
as  to  men.  It  braved  three  thousand 
miles  of  submarine  peril  to  meet  such  an 
enemy. 

Even  an  invincible  army  has  to 
breathe  and  eat  and  sleep.  They  can 
hold  their  breath  long  enough  to  adjust 
a  gas  mask,  but  the  mask  tells  us  that 
even  in  gas  they  must  be  enabled  to 
breathe.  In  the  heat  of  the  chase  when 
the  Hun  is  the  hare,  they  can  forget  for 
a  time  that  they  are  hungry,  but  the  field 
kitchen  testifies  to  the  fact  that  hunger 
undermines  courage  and  that  an  efficient 
army  must  be  a  well-fed  army. 

To  see  men  curled  up  in  muddy 
72 


HOLDING  THE  LINE 

shell-holes  with  the  sky  for  canopy, 
peacefully  sleeping,  while  cannon  are 
booming  on  every  side  and  shells  whin- 
ing overhead,  is  sufficient  evidence  that 
sleep  is  not  a  myth  invented  by  the  Gods 
of  Rest. 

While  the  spirit  of  the  boys  was  will- 
ing to  go  right  through  to  Berlin,  their 
flesh  asserted  its  weakness.  Their  first 
dash  over  the  top  was  invincible,  and  we 
were  told  that  in  ten  hours  they  swept 
forward  to  their  goal  sixty  hours  ahead 
of  schedule.  There  they  dug  in  and  for 
four  days  held  the  line  in  the  face  of  a 
murderous  and  desperate  German  fire. 

During  those  four  awful  days  I  saw 
no  sign  of  "y  ^  1 1  ^  w,"  but  everywhere 
relentless  courage. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Y-Man,  don't  you  want 
to  see  a  fellow  that  has  three  holes 
through  him  and  still  going  strong?" 

"You  don't  really  mean  it,  do  you? 

Show  him  to  me.    I  want  to  look  into 

the  eyes  of  such  a  man."    They  led  me 

over  to  a  bunch  of  soldiers  who  had  just 

73 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

come  out  of  the  line  and  there  in  the 
center  of  an  admiring  crowd  was  my 
man,  happy  as  a  lark.  His  three 
wounds — one  in  the  left  breast,  one  in 
the  thigh,  and  a  scalp  wound — had  been 
dressed,  and  while  these  wounds  had 
glorified  him  in  the  eyes  of  his  com- 
rades, he  was  ready  to  forget  them. 

Even  though  a  hundred  shells  explod- 
ing near  by  miss  you,  and  you  become 
convinced  that  Fritz  does  not  really 
have  your  name  and  address,  yet  each 
explosion  registers  its  shock  on  the 
nerve  centers.  If  this  be  long-continued, 
the  nerves  give  way  and  you  find  your- 
self a  shell-shock  patient,  tagged  and  on 
your  way  to  one  of  the  quiet  back  areas 
where  you  can  forget  the  war  and  get  a 
grip  upon  yourself  again. 

Holding  the  line  in  open  warfare 
costs  a  heavy  toll  in  human  life,  but 
here  again  our  boys  showed  their  in- 
vincible spirit.  Not  once  did  I  see  a 
Yankee  that  showed  any  eagerness  to 
get  away  from  the  line.  The  mortally 
74 


HOLDING  THE  LINE 

wounded  accepted  the  sacrifice  they  had 
been  called  upon  to  make  without  be- 
moaning fate,  and  remained  cheerful  to 
the  end.  Of  course  when  a  man  was 
''facing  Wesf  he  longed  for  the  loved 
faces  and  the  heaven  of  home.  We  who 
had  our  own  '^little  heaven"  back  in  the 
homeland  knew  and  instinctively  read 
those  sacred  thoughts  and  prayers  and 
gave  just  the  hand-pressure  of  deep 
sympathy. 

To  have  spoken  of  home  at  such  a 
time  would  have  been  to  tear  the  heart 
already  breaking,  with  a  deep  anguish 
that  would  interfere  with  their  possibil- 
ity of  recovery.  So  the  cheery  word  of 
hope  and  faith  was  given,  and  any  final 
message  quietly  taken  and  faithfully 
and  sacredly  fulfilled. 

The  wounded  men  whom  we  met 
coming  out  of  the  line  who  were  not 
''facing  West"  were  with  one  accord 
hopeful  of  speedy  recovery,  not  that 
they  might  "save  their  own  skin"  and 
get  back  home  ahve,  but  that  they  might 
75 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

get  back  into  the  fight  and  help  to  put 
forever  out  of  commission  that  devihsh 
mihtary  machine  that  had  threatened 
the  democratic  freedom  of  the  world. 

Then  again  there  were  the  boys  who 
had  miraculously  escaped  being 
wounded,  and  after  days  in  the  very 
bowels  of  hell,  which  no  pen  can  picture 
and  no  tongue  recite,  had  been  released 
from  the  line  and  were  working  their 
way  back  to  the  food  kitchens,  the  water 
carts,  and  the  rest  of  the  camps.  One 
such  doughboy,  I  met  near  Montf  aucon, 
about  midway  between  the  front  line 
and  an  artillery  ridge  where  our  75's 
were  coughing  shells  in  rapid  succession 
upon  the  entrenched  foe.  His  water 
canteen  had  long  been  empty  and  the 
nourishment  of  his  hard  tack  and  "corn 
wilKe"^  forgotten.  His  lips  were 
parched  with  thirst  and  bleeding  from 
cracks,  the  result  of  long-continued  gun 
fire.     His  body  was  wearied  by  the 

^  **  Corn  willie  **  was  corned  beef  carried  in  small  tin 
cans  and  eaten  cold  when  on  the  march. 

76 


HOLDING  THE  LINE 

heavy  strain,  his  cheeks  were  gaunt  from 
hunger  and  his  eyes  circled  for  want  of 
rest.  His  whole  bearing  was  of  one  who 
had  passed  through  suffering  untold, 
and  yet  there  was  no  word  of  bitterness 
or  complaint.  His  gratitude  for  a  sup 
of  water  from  my  canteen  was  richer  to 
me  than  the  plaudits  of  multitudes,  and 
the  fine  courage  with  which  he  worked 
his  painful  way  back  to  rest  and  refresh- 
ment caused  my  heart  to  yearn  after 
him  with  a  tenderness  which  he  can 
never  know. 

Where  a  division  is  merely  holding 
the  line,  there  being  no  aggressive  action 
on  either  side,  except  night-raiding 
parties,  men  can  stand  it  for  a  longer 
period.  Under  such  circumstances  a 
company  would  stay  in  the  front  line  for 
ten  days,  part  being  on  guard  while  the 
others  were  sleeping.  At  the  end  of  the 
ten  days  they  would  be  relieved  by  a 
fresh  company  and  return  to  a  rest 
camp  in  the  rear.  The  boys  hardly  con- 
sidered it  rest,  as  there  was  constant 
77 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

drilling,  besides  camp  duties  and  activ- 
ities of  many  kinds. 

Out  in  No  Man's  Land  we  had  our 
^'listening"  and  "observation"  posts. 
These  posts  are  set  as  near  the  enemy- 
line  as  possible.  It  is  very  hazardous 
work,  and  requires  steady  nerves  and 
clear  heads.  Each  squad  in  a  post  re- 
mains for  forty-eight  hours,  and  each 
man  of  the  squad  is  on  actual  guard  for 
four  hours  at  a  time. 

Where  men  are  on  the  line  in  aggres- 
sive warfare,  the  action  is  so  intense  that 
they  cannot  stand  up  under  long-con- 
tinued fighting.  In  the  Argonne  fight 
our  Ohio  division  was  on  the  front  line 
for  five  days  after  going  "over  the  top." 
Then  they  were  relieved  by  a  fresh  divi- 
sion, which  took  their  places  under  cover 
of  the  night. 

As  our  boys  came  out  I  stood  all  night 
with  another  "Y"  man  on  a  German 
narrow-gauge  railroad  crossing,  giving 
a  smoke  or  a  piece  of  chocolate  to  each 
man  as  he  passed.  The  enthusiastic 
78 


HOLDING  THE  LINE 

expressions  of  the  great  majority  bore 
ample  testimony  to  their  keen  apprecia- 
tion. "You're  a  hfe-saver,"  is  the  way 
they  put  it. 

Now  let  me  give  you  a  glimpse  of  the 
fine  courage  and  noble  manhood  of  the 
boys  who  were  actually  facing  the  foe  in 
the  front  line.  I  have  been  with  them  in 
many  positions  and  under  varied  cir- 
cumstances even  up  to  within  three  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  Boche  hne.  First  a 
great  word— ^  Yank  never  feared  his 
enemy. 

The  most  horrible  stories  of  Hunnish 
brutality  and  barbarity  only  served  to 
intensify  the  Yanks'  desire  to  strike  that 
enemy  low.  One  of  our  splendid  fel- 
lows, a  private  of  the  102nd  Infantry, 
came  frequently  into  our  station  at 
Rimaucourt  where  I  was  a  hut  secretary 
during  the  first  month  of  my  stay  in 
France.  I  felt  instinctively  that  he  had 
a  story  which  he  might  tell,  although  he 
had  the  noncommittal  way  of  an  oflScer 
on  the  Intelligence  Staff.  Through 
79 


/^^ 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

several  days  of  quiet  fellowship  the 
story  came  out. 

It  was  during  the  time  when  the 
Boche  were  smashing  their  way  toward 
Paris.  It  takes  more  courage  to  face  a 
foe  when  he  is  on  the  aggressive  than 
when  he  is  being  held  or  driven  hack. 
Our  hero's  company  was  meeting  an 
attack.  He  had  previously  lost  a 
brother,  victim  of  a  Boche  bullet.  The 
spirit  of  vengeance  had  stealthily  en- 
tered his  very  soul,  and  secretly  he  had 
vowed  to  avenge  that  brother's  death 
with  as  great  a  toll  of  enemy  lives  as 
possible,  if  the  opportunity  came  to  him. 

No  man  ever  knows  what  he  will  do 
under  fire  until  the  test  comes,  but  be  it 
said  to  their  glory,  our  boys  never  failed 
when  the  crucial  hour  came.  (They 
were  soldiers  not  of  training  but  of  char- 
acter.) Quietly,  with  unflinching  cour- 
age, our  boys  awaited  the  onslaught. 
Finally  when  the  command  to  fire  was 
given  our  friend  selected  his  men — ^no 
random  fire  for  him.  One  by  one  he  saw 
80 


HOLDING  THE  LINE 

his  victims  drop  until  he  had  accounted 
definitely  for  six.  The  next  man  was  a 
towering  Prussian  Guard.  A  lightning 
debate  flashed  through  his  mind  and 
stayed  momentarily  his  trigger  finger. 
Was  a  swift  and  merciful  bullet  suffi- 
cient revenge,  or  should  he  wait  and  give 
his  foe  that  which  he  so  much  feared,  the 
cold  steel?  The  momentary  hesitation 
ended  the  debate,  for  the  Guard  was  al- 
most upon  him.  Quickly  he  prepared 
for  the  shock,  and,  parrying  the  Hun's 
first  thrust,  he  gave  him  the  upward 
stroke  with  the  butt  of  his  gun ;  but  the 
Hun  kept  coming,  and  he  quickly 
brought  his  gun  down — ^his  second 
stroke  cutting  the  head  with  the  blade 
of  his  bayonet.  The  Prussian  reeled 
but  was  not  finished,  and  as  he  came 
again  our  friend  pricked  him  in  the  left 
breast  with  the  point  of  his  bayonet  in 
an  over-hand  thrust  of  his  rifle.  Still  he 
had  failed  to  give  his  foe  a  lethal  stroke, 
and  as  he  recoiled  for  a  final  encounter 
he  resolved  to  give  him  the  full  benefit 
81 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

of  a  body  thrust  and  drove  his  bayonet 
home,  the  blade  breaking  as  the  foe 
crashed  to  the  ground. 

There  is  a  sequel  to  this  story  which 
we  must  never  forget.  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  undaunted  heroism  of 
our  boys  when  in  action,  each  one  of 
them  not  only  ''had  a  heart"  but  also  a 
conscience.  And  while  war,  which  is 
worse  than  Sherman's  "hell,"  suspends 
for  the  time  the  heart  appeal  and  stifles 
the  conscience,  the  reaction  is  almost  in- 
variably the  same. 


CHAPTER  V 
TANKS  AND  TRACTORS 

THE  infantry  is  the  most  mobile  of 
any  division  of  the  army.  Men 
can  go  where  horses  and  guns  find  it 
impossible.  They  can  file  silently 
through  narrow  passes  or  a  maze  of  for- 
est trees  and  underbrush.  They  can 
scale  chffs.  They  can  dodge  shell-holes 
and  negotiate  muddy  roads  and  mo- 
rasses. They  can  move  slowly  or  quickly 
at  will  and  can  therefore  take  difficult 
positions  where  it  is  impossible  quickly 
to  bring  up  artillery  support. 

The  Ohio  boys  were  in  the  line  ex- 
posed to  the  merciless  and  cruel  ma- 
chine-gun and  artillery  fire  of  the 
enemy.  It  was  said  that  the  Germans 
had  one  machine  gun  for  every  two  of 
our  rifles.  The  conflict  was  desperate. 
The  enemy  realized  that  their  cause  de- 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

pended  upon  their  practical  annihila- 
tion of  the  American  troops.  These 
fighters,  who  with  such  courage  and  dis- 
regard of  danger  had  taken  this  part  of 
the  impregnable  Hindenburg  line,  now 
threatened  their  supporting  lines.  It  is 
no  disgrace  to  acknowledge  that  during 
those  awful  initial  days  of  the  Argonne 
drive  we  paid  the  price  that  an  army  ad- 
vancing must  pay.  Of  course  it  was 
heart-breaking  to  see  the  long  lines  of 
our  stretcher-bearers  coming  out  of  that 
belching  brimstone  line  with  the  punc- 
tured and  broken  bodies  of  our  boys. 
But  it  was  glorious  to  know  that  the 
line  had  not  wavered.  How  long  could 
they  last?  And  how  speedily  could  ar- 
tillery be  brought  to  their  aid?  These 
were  the  momentous  questions  that 
quivered  on  every  lip  and  that  gave  im- 
perative urgency  to  the  commands  and 
appeals  of  the  officers  who  watched  with 
choking  emotion  the  slaughter  of  "their 
boys." 
As  we  gazed  over  the  valley  we  saw 
84 


TANKS  AND  TRACTORS 

to  the  left  a  line  of  slow-crawling  tanks. 
They  were  about  as  long  as  Ford  cars 
and  as  tall  as  a  man.  They  were  the 
French  *'baby  tanks"  coming  up  to  help 
our  boys  clean  out  the  machine-gun 
nests.  It  was  perfectly  fascinating  and 
almost  uncanny  to  watch  tanks  in  ac- 
tion. There  was  no  visible  sign  of  life 
or  power,  nor  any  seeming  direction  to 
their  motion.  They  crawled  stealthily 
along,  bowUng  over  bushes  or  small 
trees  or  flattening  out  wire  entangle- 
ments. Steep  banks  or  deep  gulleys 
were  taken  or  crossed  with  equal  ease. 
As  a  tank  would  creep  up  the  side  of  a 
ridge  it  seemed  to  poise  momentarily  on 
the  crest,  the  front  part  extending  out 
into  space  until  the  center  of  gravity 
was  passed,  when  the  whole  tank 
plunged  down  headlong.  We  instinc- 
tively held  our  breath  until  we  saw  it 
crawling  away  on  the  opposite  side. 

The  tanks  parked  behind  a  hill.    We 
worked  our  way  through  the  interven- 
ing valley,  up  the  hill  past  the  tank  posi- 
85 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

tion,  and  on  toward  the  battle-line,  giv- 
ing out  our  supplies  to  all  we  met  or 
passed.  Before  we  had  finished,  a 
Boche  plane  flew  overhead,  took  a 
photo  of  the  tank  position,  and  got  away 
to  the  German  lines  before  our  aviators 
could  give  chase.  We  were  warned  to 
retreat  to  a  safe  position  because  the 
German  guns  would  shell  this  area  as 
soon  as  the  returning  scout  brought  in 
news  of  the  location  of  the  tanks.  Our 
first  concern,  however,  was  the  service 
we  might  be  able  to  render  the  boys. 
Personal  safety  was  a  secondary  matter, 
especially  since  death  lurked  every- 
where. So  we  continued  across  a  shell- 
torn  slope,  toward  the  enemy  line,  going 
from  shell-hole  to  shell-hole  and  giving 
a  word  of  good  cheer,  a  bit  of  chocolate, 
and  some  smokes  to  the  boys  who  had 
taken  temporary  refuge  in  these  ready- 
made  "dug-ins"  (a  shallow  protection). 
Having  ministered  to  the  wants  of 
our  own  boys,  we  felt  the  brave  French 
pilots  and  gunners  of  these  tanks  were 
86 


TANKS  AND  TRACTORS 

also  deserving  and  as  we  approached 
each  tank  on  our  return  trip  a  small  iron 
door  in  front  of  the  pilot  opened,  and 
the  courteous  appreciation,  of  which 
the  French  are  masters,  told  us  that  our 
remembrance  of  them  had  been  wisely 
chosen.  Fritz  was  unintentionally  good 
to  us  and  waited  until  we  had  finished 
our  task  in  that  sector  and  retraced  our 
steps  across  the  valley  before  he  began 
to  shell  it.  By  that  time  the  wounded 
had  also  been  cared  for  and  removed 
and  the  tank  position  changed.  For 
once  Heinie's  shells  were  wasted. 

For  ten  wonderful  days  my  duties 
took  me  (on  foot,  by  touring-car,  by 
truck,  and  by  ammunition  wagon)  from 
the  "rail-head"  six  miles  behind  the 
trenches  where  our  boys  went  "over  the 
top"  on  that  first  historic  day  of  the 
Argonne  drive,  up  to  within  a  half  mile 
of  the  day's  farthest  advance. 

I  saw  artillery  pieces  and  heavy 
cannon  emplacements  everywhere  back 
of  the  line.  I  saw  these  guns  after  their 
87 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

first  terrific  bombardment,  imlimbered 
and  moved  up  to  their  new  positions. 
The  heaviest  guns,  including  the  big 
naval  guns,  were  especially  well  con- 
cealed in  woods,  in  orchards,  and  well 
camouflaged  in  fields.  So  well  hidden 
were  they  that  I  passed  within  a  few 
rods  of  multitudes  of  them,  as  I  traveled 
the  roads,  without  detecting  their  pres- 
ence until  I  would  either  hear  the  dis- 
charge of  their  shells  or  see  them  as  they 
were  being  unhmbered.  To  move  a 
heavy  gun  in  mud  is  no  small  task.  For 
more  than  an  hour  one  day  I  was  held 
up  in  a  truck  and  watched  a  dozen  ex- 
perts, with  block  and  tackle  and  "cater- 
pillar tractor"  move  a  twelve-inch 
monster  from  its  hidden  foundation  up 
a  slight  incline  toward  the  roadway.  It 
was  an  hour  well  spent,  for  it  gave  me 
an  object  lesson  concerning  the  diffi- 
culty with  which  great  field  pieces  are 
moved  under  unfavorable  conditions. 

By  way  of  contrast,  I  watched  at  an- 
other time  a  crew  of  eight  men  unlimber 
88 


TANKS  AND  TRACTORS 

an  eight-inch  gun  and  move  it  about 
fifteen  feet  from  its  foundation  beside 
a  raiboad  track  to  a  flat  car,  which  could 
carry  it  at  express  speed  to  some  other 
point  of  vantage.  This  told  the  great 
value  of  railroad  spurs  leading  up 
toward  the  enemy  hues. 

At  one  place  our  boys  told  me  of  one 
of  our  "mysterious"  guns,  mounted  on 
a  specially  prepared  flat  car,  which 
made  nightly  trips  out  to  different 
points  of  vantage  for  firing  on  some 
enemy  position,  returning  again  under 
cover  of  the  darkness  to  its  secret  hiding 
place. 

Having  seen  the  battlefields  and  be- 
hind the  lines  of  both  the  Allied  and  the 
German  forces;  and  having  noted  the 
military  efficiency  of  the  German  prep- 
aration and  their  care  in  carrying  out 
even  the  minutest  details;  and  having 
observed  the  skill  in  preparation  and  the 
accuracy  in  use,  especially  of  the  French 
artillery;  and  having  been  thrilled  and 
pleased  by  the  quick  and  ingenious 
89 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

adaptation  of  our  American  army  to  the 
best  and  most  efficient  use  of  every  type 
of  weapon,  I  am  thoroughly  convinced 
that  an  inteUigent  army,  governed  by 
Christian  ideals,  is  an  invincible  army, 
no  matter  what  temporary  advantage 
military  preparedness  may  have  given 
to  the  enemy. 


90 


CHAPTER  VI 
PEN  PICTURES 

German  Sniper  in  Crucifix 

AT  Chemin  des  Dames,  near  Sois- 
sons,  one  night  about  the  middle 
of  April,  four  Americans  (one  of  Ital- 
ian birth)  belonging  to  the  102d  United 
States  Infantry,  made  up  a  raiding 
party.  Their  objective  was  a  crucifix 
out  in  No  Man's  Land,  about  four  hun- 
dred yards  from  their  own  trench  and 
within  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of 
the  German  trenches.  The  crucifix  was 
a  monument  containing  a  secret  inner 
chamber  reached  by  a  small  spiral  stair- 
way. A  Boche  sniper  concealed  in  this 
crucifix  had  taken  too  large  a  toll  of 
American  soldiers  at  that  point  in  the 
line.  The  four  night  raiders  left  the 
American  trench  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
91 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

morning.  They  crawled  on  their  bellies 
through  snow  for  one  hour  before  reach- 
ing the  sniper's  post.  Seven  yards  per 
minute  is  a  snail's  pace,  but  pretty  good 
time  in  No  Man's  Land,  where  you 
must  remain  motionless  each  time  a  star- 
shell  hghts  up  the  darkness  around  you 
and  makes  your  discovery  possible. 

The  Itahan  won  the  privilege  of  en- 
tering the  crucifix  to  capture  the  sniper. 
His  weapon  must  be  a  silent  weapon,  for 
a  shot  would  expose  the  presence  of  the 
whole  party.  He  chose  a  razor,  and 
when  he  emerged  from  the  crucifix  he 
brought  with  him,  as  proof  that  he  had 
satisfactorily  executed  his  order,  the 
Hun's  rifle,  fieldglasses,  and  identifica- 
tion card.  Needless  to  say,  no  further 
trouble  from  Boche  snipers  was  expe- 
rienced at  that  point.  The  return  trip 
was  made  with  less  caution  and  they 
were  discovered.  When  within  fifty 
yards  of  their  own  lines  a  heavy  machine 
gun  barrage  opened  upon  them.  It 
then  became  a  race  for  life,  but  they 
9S 


PEN  PICTURES 

reached  the  safety  of  their  own  trenches 
without  a  scratch. 

German  Infernal  Machines 

In  the  German  dugouts  all  through 
the  Argonne  Forest  and  on  the  battle- 
fields were  found  a  multitude  of  death- 
dealing  devices  intended  to  invite  the 
curiosity  of  the  Yankee  souvenir  hunt- 
ers. 

In  one  dugout  near  the  edge  of  the 
Forest  we  found  a  mysterious-looking 
box  which  we  let  severely  alone.  I  had 
seen  the  diagram  of  a  similar  box,  which 
had  been  carefully  dissected  by  a  mem- 
ber of  the  IntelHgence  Squad.  This 
German  trap  was  a  finely  poKshed  box 
about  fourteen  inches  long  by  six  inches 
at  its  widest  part,  and  disguised  as  a 
music  box.  It  had  polished  hinges  and 
lock  and  an  alhgator  handle  in  the 
center  of  the  top.  It  had  also  a  mono- 
gram in  one  corner.  Inside  the  box 
were  two  squash-shaped  grenades  about 
nine  inches  long  and  filling  the  whole 
93 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

center  of  the  box.  In  the  big  end  of  the 
box  was  a  compartment  filled  with  chad- 
dite,  a  yellow  powder,  eight  times  as 
powerful  as  dynamite.  Attached  to  the 
grenades  were  four  friction  handles  so 
connected  with  the  alligator  handle  on 
top  as  to  explode  the  bombs  when  the 
box  was  lifted.  In  event  of  the  frictions 
faihng  to  work,  or  the  intended  victim 
opening  the  box  some  other  way  there 
was  a  two-second  fuse  inserted  in  the 
end  of  each  bomb^  and  extending  into 
the  chaddite  compartment,  to  be  set  off 
by  the  removal  of  the  lid. 

A  hand  grenade  was  used  by  them 
which  our  boys  called  potato-mashers. 
The  head  of  the  potato-masher  was  a 
can  made  of  one-sixteenth-inch  brittle 
steel.  The  can  was  about  seven  inches 
long  by  four  and  one-half  inches  in 
diameter.  Around  the  inside  of  the  can 
was  a  layer  of  small  steel  cogs.  Inside 
these  a  layer  of  small  steel  balls.  The 
next  layer  was  of  small  ragged-edged 
scrap  steel  pieces  and  the  next,  poisoned 
94 


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yygw 


PEN  PICTURES 

copper  diamonds.  The  center  was  filled 
with  chaddite.  On  one  end  of  the  can 
was  a  hollow  steel  handle  about  eight 
inches  long.  A  string  passing  through 
this  handle  was  attached  on  the  inside  to 
a  touch  fuse  imbedded  in  the  chaddite; 
the  other  end  of  the  string  was  tied  to 
a  button  on  the  handle.  By  pulling  the 
button  the  fuse  was  set  o&. 

Imagine  the  destruction  wrought  by 
one  of  these  exploding  in  a  company  of 
soldiers.  I  have  seen  many  of  them 
through  the  Argonne,  but  we  had  been 
warned  of  their  danger  and  chose  other 
weapons  as  souvenirs, 

A  Yank  Taken  Pkisonee 

This  story  was  from  the  lips  of  a 
doughboy  whose  home  was  in  Philadel- 
phia. I  had  piloted  Mr.  Cross,  of  the 
Providence  Journal,  through  the  sur- 
gical wards  of  Base  Hospital  No.  18. 
This  was  the  Johns  Hopkins  Hospital 
Unit  located  at  Bazoilles  (pronounced 
Baz-wy).  One  of  the  nurses  said, 
95 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

''Have  you  seen  Tony  in  Ward  N  ?  He 
has  a  wonderful  story." 

So  we  went  to  Ward  N,  and  in  a  pri- 
vate room  at  the  end  of  the  ward  found 
our  hero,  who  was  rapidly  recovering 
and  anxious  to  be  of  further  service  to 
the  land  of  his  adoption.  His  right  eye 
was  gone,  A  German  bullet  was  re- 
sponsible for  its  loss.  Thus  wounded 
and  unable  to  escape  he  had  been  sur- 
rounded and  taken  prisoner  by  the 
Boche  who  forced  him  to  walk  on  ahead 
of  them. 

"When  I  was  unable  to  drag  along 
as  fast  as  they  demanded,  I  was  shot  at 
by  one  of  the  Huns,  the  bullet  making 
a  flesh  wound  in  my  left  leg.  They  then 
decided  to  kill  me  and  shot  me  through 
the  heart,  as  they  supposed.  I  was  left 
for  dead,  but  the  bullet  had  missed  my 
heart.  For  six  days  I  lay  out  in  an  open 
field,  living  but  unable  to  move." 

Then  his  voice  lowered  as  he  told  us 
the  awful  nauseating  story  of  how  he 
endeavored  to  quench  the  unbearable 
96 


PEN  PICTURES 

thirst  of  those  terrible  days.  At  last  he 
was  found  by  our  men  who  had  con- 
quered and  driven  back  the  Hun. 

This  brave  Italian  boy  had  suffered  as 
few  are  ever  permitted  to  suffer  and 
live,  but  his  fine  spirit  was  still  uncon- 
quered.  He  was  not  seeking  pity.  He 
told  the  story  because  we  asked  for  it. 
He  told  it  as  though  it  was  the  merest 
incident  of  his  life.  There  was  no  word 
of  complaint  at  having  suffered  the 
losses  which  would  cripple  him  for  life. 

It  is  the  same  old  story  that  all  have 
told  who  have  witnessed  the  splendid 
courage  of  our  men.  I  have  seen  thou- 
sands in  the  hospitals  and  on  the  battle- 
field, many  of  them  literally  shot  to 
pieces,  and  I  have  yet  to  hear  the  first 
complaint.  And  only  in  two  or  three 
instances  have  I  heard  even  a  groan 
escape  the  lips  of  a  man,  unless  he  was 
under  the  influence  of  ether. 

"Allied  Ant  Fleets" 

Having  watched  with  keen  interest 
97 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

the  rapid  growth  and  development  of 
the  AUied  air  program,  I  was  ready  to 
be  properly  thrilled  by  the  maneuvers 
of  our  American  squadrons  operating 
in  conjunction  with  the  army  in  prep- 
aration for  the  great  Argonne  drive. 

I  have  seen  three  fleets  in  the  air  at 
one  time  over  Avoncourt  after  that 
wonderful  offensive  had  been  launched. 
Part  were  Liberty  bombing  planes  with 
their  loads  of  destruction  for  German 
miUtary  bases.  Part  were  the  speedy 
little  "Spads"  which  were  used  as  scout 
planes.  They  were  very  hght  and  small 
and  capable  of  terrific  bursts  of  speed. 

I  could  appreciate  the  importance  of 
the  bombing  planes,  for  I  had  once  been 
privileged  to  help  load  one  of  the  mon- 
ster Handley-Page  British  bombing 
planes.  It  weighed  seven  tons,  includ- 
ing its  load  of  sixteen  100-pound  bombs, 
and  was  manned  by  two  pilots  and  a 
machine  gunner. 

I  am  conscious  even  yet  of  the  thrills 
that  pricked  my  spine,  as  this  monster 
98 


PEN  PICTURES 

with  nineteen  companions  spurned  the 
earth  in  a  mad,  rushing  leap  out  into 
space  and  sailed  away  into  the  night  to 
let  the  inhabitants  of  German  towns 
know  that  "frightfulness"  was  a  game 
at  which  two  could  play. 

The  Liberty  motors  were  highly 
praised  by  our  pilots,  and  I  am  ready  to 
add  my  testimony  to  the  steadiness  and 
reliabihty  of  the  "ship"  which  was  under 
so  much  discussion  and  investigation 
over  here. 

On  October  10,  with  Lieutenant  Wil- 
son, of  the  163rd  Aero  Squadron,  in  a 
two-seated  Liberty  I  took  a  "jump" 
over  the  Meuse  Valley.  As  we  bumped 
over  the  ground  in  our  first  sudden  dash, 
and  then  birdhke  rose  quickly  into  the 
air,  my  sensations  were  not  the  hair-rais- 
ing variety  so  often  described  by  the 
thrilled  amateur.  When  we  "banked" 
however,  on  a  sharp  turn,  I  had  my  first 
real  sensation — I  quickly  braced  my- 
self lest  I  fall  overboard.  At  thirty-five 
hundred  feet  the  fields  looked  like 
99 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

green-and-brown  patches,  the  forests 
like  low  bushes,  and  the  railroads,  high- 
ways, and  rivers  hke  tracer  lines  across 
the  face  of  a  map. 

From  that  altitude  the  earth  was 
beautiful.  The  enchantment  of  dis- 
tance had  blotted  out  the  rubbish  heaps. 
The  yellow  waters  of  the  turbid  streams 
glistened  in  the  sun  and  the  very  mud 
itself,  which  the  day  before  had  pre- 
vented my  flight,  was  now  but  a  smooth, 
golden  surface. 

"A  Public  Hanging  in  War  Time" 

On  July  12  it  was  rumored  that  a 
soldier  had  been  sentenced  to  be  hung 
the  next  day  at  ten  o'clock  for  an  un- 
speakable crime.  The  gallows  was  al- 
ready built  on  the  edge  of  the  camp  at 
Bazoilles.  I  saw  it  on  my  afternoon 
trip  and  knew  that  the  report  was  true. 
Being  interested  in  the  psychology  of 
such  a  scene  on  the  men  present,  I  put 
aside  my  inward  rebellion  at  so  grue- 
some a  sight  and  arranged  my  trip  so 
100 


PEN  PieTURES      ' 

as  to  be  present.  I  reached  the  camp  at 
nine  forty-five  and  was  the  last  man  ad- 
mitted. The  gallows  was  built  in  the 
center  of  the  semicircle  facing  two  hills 
which  came  abruptly  together,  leaving  a 
large  grass  plot  at  their  base.  This 
formed  a  natural  amphitheater.  About 
two  thousand  soldiers,  both  white  and 
colored,  were  seated  on  the  grass  inside 
a  rope  inclosure.  A  company  of  sol- 
diers from  another  camp  had  been 
marched  in  to  act  as  guards,  and  they 
formed  a  complete  circle  standing  just 
outside  the  ropes  and  extending  down 
to  the  gallows  on  either  side. 

Many  French  civilians  and  visiting 
soldiers  lined  the  edges  or  looked  down 
from  points  of  vantage  on  the  hillside. 
I  stood  on  one  side  about  one  hundred 
feet  from  the  "trap."  At  nine  fifty  a 
Red  Cross  ambulance  drove  up,  and  the 
prisoner,  his  hands  bound  behind  him, 
alighted,  and  accompanied  by  a  guard 
and  the  ofiicials,  walked  up  a  dozen 
wooden  steps  to  the  platform.  He  was 
101 


THE  FIGtiT  FDK  THE  ARGONNE 

escorted  to  the  front  of  the  platform, 
and  in  a  clear,  strong  voice  spoke  to  the 
almost  breathless  crowd.  He  acknowl- 
edged with  sorrow  his  crime,  and  urged 
upon  all  the  necessity  of  being  true  to 
God  and  their  country.  He  stepped 
back  on  the  "trap,"  the  black  cap  was 
drawn  over  his  head,  the  noose  placed 
about  his  neck,  the  "trap"  sprung,  and 
with  a  sickening  thud  he  dropped  to  his 
doom.  For  twenty  minutes,  from  nine 
fifty  to  ten  ten,  his  body  hung  there  be- 
fore he  was  pronounced  by  the  attend- 
ing surgeon  officially  dead. 

I  never  witnessed  a  twenty  minutes 
of  such  deathly  silence.  Two  guards 
fainted,  and  the  effect  on  the  crowd  was 
indescribable.  I  overheard  a  colored 
fellow  say,  "I  never  want  to  do  any- 
thing bad  again  as  long  as  I  live." 

The  body  was  immediately  cut  down, 
placed  in  a  coffin,  and  taken  in  the  am- 
bulance to  its  burial.  It  was  a  silent, 
thoughtful  company  that  went  out  from 
that  tragic  scene. 

102 


PEN  PICTURES 

"The  American  Dead" 

"Will  we  be  able  to  locate  the  body 
of  our  boy?'' 

So  often  has  this  question  been  asked 
me  that  I  must  take  a  moment  to  answer 
it. 

I  watched  two  American  miUtary 
burial  plots  grow  from  the  first  lone 
grave  to  small  cities  of  our  noble  dead. 
One  was  at  Bazoilles,  half  way  between 
Chaumont  and  Toul.  The  other  was  at 
Baccarat  near  the  Alsatian  border. 
Each  grave  was  marked  with  a  little 
wooden  cross  bearing  the  name  and  rank 
of  the  soldier,  and  beside  each  cross  an 
American  flag. 

Many  were  buried  in  French  ceme- 
teries. At  Neufchateau  a  section  was 
set  aside  for  the  use  of  our  American 
army.  When  I  visited  it  there  were 
about  one  hundred  new-made  graves 
all  plainly  marked,  and  fresh  flowers  on 
each  grave. 

Of  course  most  of  the  French  ceme- 
103 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

teries  were  Catholic,  and  Protestant 
bodies  could  not  be  granted  burial 
within  the  walls.  A  touching  story  is 
told  of  an  American  Protestant  soldier 
buried  close  outside  the  wall  of  a  Cath- 
olic graveyard.  During  the  night 
French  civilians  tore  down  the  wall  at 
that  place  and  rebuilt  it  around  their 
comrade  of  a  different  faith.  It  was  a 
beautiful  symbol  of  the  new  dawn  of 
peace  when  all  nations  and  all  creeds 
shall  recognize  the  common  brotherhood 
of  all  God's  children. 

France  a  Great  Scrap  Heap 

Now  that  the  war  is  over,  France  is  a 
vast  junk  heap  of  arms  and  equipment 
that  cost  a  mint  of  money  and  the  brains 
and  lives  of  millions  of  men. 

For  generations  to  come  the  soil  of 
France  will  be  disclosing  to  the  peasants 
who  till  her  fields,  the  fragments  of 
war's  destructive  power  and  the  bones 
of  heroes  who  bled  and  died. 

On  the  battlefields  I  saw  innumerable 
104 


PEN  PICTURES 

quantities  of  equipment,  together  with 
guns  and  ammunition,  which  had  cost 
millions  to  produce  but  were  valueless 
in  so  far  as  their  future  use  was  con- 
cerned. I  saw  the  Place  de  la  Concorde 
and  the  Tuileries  Garden  in  Paris 
packed  with  one  thousand  captured 
German  guns  and  more  than  a  score  of 
Boche  planes  and  observation  balloons. 
On  one  great  pile  were  three  thousand 
Boche  helmets,  carefully  wired  together 
and  closely  guarded  so  that  souvenir 
hunters  could  not  slip  them  away.  It 
seemed  a  terrible  price  to  pay  for  object 
lessons  for  the  great  celebrations  com- 
memorating the  overthrow  of  autocracy. 
But  having  paid  the  price  it  was  right 
to  use  the  trophies. 

As  the  boys  went  into  battle  they  left 
behind  them  great  salvage  piles  of 
things  they  would  not  need  in  the  fight. 
As  they  came  out  of  the  battle  they  left 
great  piles  of  salvage  which  they  fer- 
vently hoped  the  world  would  never 
need  to  use  again. 

105 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

With  the  world's  war  bills  mounting 
into  the  billions,  and  the  value  of  the 
salvage  piles  an  almost  negligible 
amount,  the  material  waste  of  war  is 
appalling.  If  it  will  teach  the  nations 
to  be  as  generous  toward  the  great  re- 
construction program  as  they  were 
toward  the  overthrow  of  that  autocracy 
which  threatened  the  world's  freedom, 
then  the  waste  of  war  has  not  been  in 
vain. 

At  Bar  le  Due  I  saw  great  ware- 
houses under  management  of  the 
French  government  stacked  to  the  roof 
with  auto  tires  and  tubes.  I  had  driven 
with  our  Division  Y.  M.  C.  A.  chief.  Dr. 
Norton,  from  Neuf chateau  to  exchange 
an  auto  load  of  tires  which  our  half 
dozen  cars  had  worn  out,  for  an  equal 
number  of  new  tires.  And  I  knew  that 
these  great  piles  formed  but  a  small 
percentage  of  the  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  rubber  shoes  needed  for  the  vehicles 
of  war. 

I  visited  the  great  Renault  automo- 
106 


PEN  PICTURES 

bile  plant  at  Nancy,  which  the  French 
government  had  taken  over  for  a  repair 
station.  Literally  thousands  of  army 
trucks  and  official  cars  were  passing 
through  this  station  in  a  constant 
stream,  either  to  be  quickly  repaired  or 
thrown  into  the  junk  heap.  Our  own 
case  was  typical.  Our  Renault  truck 
had  broken  down  at  Luneville,  twenty 
miles  from  Nancy.  No  local  man  could 
make  the  repairs.  Through  our  Amer- 
ican army  headquarters  at  Nancy  we 
applied  to  this  French  repair  station. 
At  eight  o'clock  next  morning  I  was  on 
hand  to  pilot  a  heavy  wrecking  truck  to 
our  car.  A  towing  hawser  was  at- 
tached ;  their  second  pilot  took  charge  of 
our  truck,  load  and  all;  and  before  noon 
we  were  safely  landed  at  the  repair  sta- 
tion. A  hasty  examination  by  a  Re- 
nault expert  revealed  the  fact  that  ten 
days  or  more  would  be  required  to  make 
the  necessary  repairs.  A  day  or  two 
was  the  longest  time  they  could  allow 
any  car  to  remain.  So  after  searching 
107 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGDNNE 

in  vain  for  another  garage  that  would 
undertake  the  repairs,  we  towed  the 
truck  to  our  Y.  M.  C.  A.  garage  and 
stored  it,  that  it  might  be  salvaged  at 
some  future  time. 

France  is  full  of  broken-down  trucks, 
touring  cars,  and  ambulances;  of  worn 
out  engines  and  the  rolling  stock  of  her 
railways.  From  the  English  Channel  to 
the  Persian  Gulf  her  battlefields  are  lit- 
tered with  brass  and  iron  and  wood  and 
steel.  Besides  these  there  are  the  great 
piles  of  garments  of  wool  and  rubber 
and  leather,  and  the  wasting  stores  of 
army  blankets  and  cots  and  surgical 
supplies. 

Into  the  larger  salvage  piles  will  go 
the  multitude  of  tents  and  temporary 
wooden  barracks  for  the  housing  of  the 
fighters  from  all  nations,  who  for  four 
dreadful  years  held  that  "far-flung 
battle  line." 

A  part  of  this  larger  salvage  pile  will 
be  the  temporary  hospitals.  In  less 
than  a  year  America  alone  built  and 
108 


PEN  PICTURES 

equipped  hospitals  which  were  capable 
of  accommodating  a  million  wounded. 

Then  from  the  battle-line  to  the  At- 
lantic coast  we  must  think  of  the  vast 
supply  stations  and  warehouses,  the 
great  engineering  plants  and  repair 
shops.  America  not  only  built  in 
France  the  greatest  ice  plant  in  the 
world  but  she  made  every  preparation 
on  a  gigantic  scale. 

When  she  entered  the  war  she  went 
in  to  win,  even  if  it  would  take  ten  mil- 
lion of  her  men  to  finish  the  job.  Had 
she  done  less,  the  final  chapter  would 
not  yet  have  been  written,  and  a  differ- 
ent story  might  needs  have  been  told. 

Hospital  Baeracks 

Day  by  day  I  watched  the  magic 
growth  of  the  wooden  hospital  barracks 
at  Rimacourt  with  accommodations  for 
fifteen  thousand  men,  and  was  inter- 
ested in  the  engineering  feat  by  which 
an  abundance  of  fresh  water  was 
pumped  from  drilled  wells  in  an  old 
109 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

chateau  to  a  great  reservoir  on  the 
mountain  side,  and  piped  from  there  to 
every  building  and  ward. 

I  watched  the  same  process  at  Ba- 
zoilles  as,  nestled  in  the  wonderful 
Meuse  valley,  that  great  hospital  grew 
from  a  single  base  (the  Johns  Hopkins 
Unit)  until  it  included  seven  bases  and 
was  able  to  care  for  thirty-five  thou- 
sand wounded. 

I  spent  one  night  there  ministering  to 
the  wounded  as  they  were  unloaded 
from  the  great  American  Red  Cross 
train.  I  watched  the  process  with  pride 
and  amazement.  So  well  organized  was 
the  army  Red  Cross  that  when  a  train 
was  announced  the  ambulances  loaded 
with  stretcher  bearers  were  rushed  to 
the  unloading  platform.  In  seven  min- 
utes three  hundred  helpless  men  were 
gently  taken  from  their  comfortable 
berths  in  the  train  and  carried  on 
stretchers  to  the  platform  from  which 
the  ambulances  speedily  bore  them  to 
the  waiting  wards. 

110 


PEN  PICTURES 

During  the  night  of  which  I  speak 
five  trainloads  of  gassed  men  from  the 
Chateau-Thierry  fight  were  thus  im- 
loaded  at  Bazoilles. 


Ill 


CHAPTER  VII 
MORAL  FLASHES 

THIS  chapter  is  plainly  labeled  so 
that  anyone  who  chooses  may  es- 
cape it. 

A  preacher  without  a  preachment  is 
a  paradox.  We  do  not  fear  the  para- 
dox, much  less  the  criticism  of  the  over- 
religious.  But  we  frankly  believe  that 
the  solution  of  the  moral  and  spiritual 
problems  of  the  soldier,  as  the  army  at- 
tempted to  solve  them,  gives  a  hint  to 
the  churches  which  dare  not  be  ignored. 

The  soldier  was  more  truly  rehgious 
"over  there"  than  he  was  before  he 
"fared  forth"  on  his  great  adventure. 
And  the  reason  was  not  merely  in  the 
fact  that  fear  of  death  drives  men 
nearer  to  God.  That  reason  has  been 
present  in  every  war.  The  history  of 
all  wars  proves  that  war  engenders  such 
112 


MORAL  FLASHES 

hatred,  recklessness,  and  immorality 
that  fighters  have  come  out  of  the  con- 
flict more  godless  than  when  they  en- 
tered. The  veterans  of  our  own  Civil 
War  bear  abundant  testimony  to  the  de- 
bauchery of  youth  during  the  four  long 
years  of  that  struggle. 

What  is  the  story  of  the  morality  of 
the  American  army  during  the  struggle 
just  ended?  Already  statistics  have 
been  compiled  showing  that  the  per- 
centage of  disease  resulting  from  im- 
morality was  so  small  in  comparison 
with  the  percentage  even  in  civil  life  as 
to  be  almost  negligible.  If  we  could 
compare  the  army  life  of  the  present 
with  the  army  life  of  the  past,  I  am  con- 
fident the  contrast  would  be  even  more 
startling. 

Our  army  was  a  clean  army — an 
army  whose  actions  and  modes  of  life 
squared  with  the  highest  standards  of 
moral  and  religious  teachings.  That 
there  were  notable  exceptions  no  one 
will  deny. 

113 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

Why  were  our  soliders  in  this  bitter 
world  conflict  better  and  stronger  than 
the  soldiers  of  previous  wars?  The  an- 
swer I  want  you  to  think  about  (there 
are  other  answers)  is  that  the  army  and 
navy  officers,  from  President  Wilson 
down,  planned  wisely  and  sanely  to 
meet  the  physical,  mental,  and  moral 
needs  of  our  boys  both  at  home  and  over 
seas.  And  the  results  achieved  proved 
the  wisdom  of  the  endeavor.  Had  the 
plans  been  less  comprehensive  the  re- 
suits  would  certainly  have  been  far  less 
gratifying. 

My  own  experiences  cause  me  to 
draw  the  same  conclusions  that  many 
others  have  drawn.  "Over  there"  man 
stood  out  before  his  Maker,  his  very 
soul  uncovered,  and  prayed  with  a 
frankness  he  had  never  expressed  be- 
fore. And  God  revealed  himself.  We 
may  not  understand  the  psychology, 
nevertheless  one  soldier  saw,  or  thought 
he  saw,  Christ  in  a  shell-hole  stretching 
out  his  hands  in  forgiveness  and  bless- 
114 


MORAL  FLASHES 

ing.  Another  saw  God  the  Father  giv- 
ing absolution  as  his  straining  eyes 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  crucifix.  An- 
other felt  "The  Presence"  as  the  inward 
quietness  which  follows  action  crept 
over  him.  Whatever  the  form,  the  ef- 
fect was  the  same.  Men  met  God  face 
to  face  and  lived. 

A  captain  of  infantry  coming  out  of 
the  Argonne  fight  on  September  30, 
said:  "I  have  never  been  a  professed 
Christian.  I  have  always  considered  the 
testimony  of  so-called  Christians  as  the 
imagination  of  religious  fanatics.  But 
I  saw  Christ  up  there,  and  I  shall  never 
scoff  again."  A  private  standing  near 
turned  to  me  and  said:  "We  all  felt  the 
same  way  about  it.  It  was  mighty  real 
to  us." 

Not  many  decades  ago  preachers  used 
death  as  their  most  telling  plea  for 
sinners  to  be  converted.  The  tragic 
death  of  a  "sinner"  in  a  community 
where  evangelistic  services  were  being 
held  was  always  held  up  as  the  special 
115 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

warning  of  God.  The  crude  way  in 
which  this  truth  was  presented  does  not, 
however,  disturb  the  fundamental  fact 
that  death  does  have  a  sobering  ef- 
fect on  human  judgment  and  human 
will,  and  that  in  the  presence  of  death 
souls  do  more  naturally  seek  after  and 
find  God. 

A  private  of  Company  I,  165th  In- 
fantry, was  in  Base  Hospital  No.  117 
suffering  from  shell-shock.  He  said: 
"There  were  only  seven  of  my  company 
left.  We  killed  our  share  of  the  Huns 
before  they  got  us,  but  the  slaughter 
was  awful.  To  see  all  your  comrades 
shot  down  around  you  and  then  to  lie 
helpless  on  the  field — ^minutes  seemed 
ages.  And  decisions  were  registered  in 
heaven  which  we  can  never  get  away 
from."  This  boy  had  been  gay  and 
frivolous  at  home,  with  two  automobiles 
at  his  command  and  plenty  of  money  to 
use  as  he  wished.  He  had  never  been 
forced  to  the  serious  consideration  of  the 
problems  of  his  soul-life  until  he 
116 


MORAL  FLASHES 

squarely  faced  those  problems  on  the 
field  of  carnage. 

I  was  asked  to  speak  at  the  Y.  M. 
C.  A.  hut  at  Rebeval  Barracks,  where  a 
veterinary  hospital  occupies  the  same  in- 
closure  as  Base  Hospital  No.  66.  My 
audience  was  made  up  largely  of  East 
Side  New  Yorkers.  The  secretary, 
Stuart,  of  Jamaica,  said  to  me  before 
the  meeting:  "Give  them  the  straight 
punch.  You  know  how."  He  led  the 
song  service  and  put  plenty  of  "pep" 
in  it.  All  the  boys  were  singing  who 
could.  The  rest  were  ''hollering"  and 
thought  they  were  singing.  Even  the 
French  soldiers  and  civilians  who  could 
not  understand  stood  at  the  windows  in- 
terested spectators.  The  message  was  a 
straight-from-the-shoulder  presentation 
of  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ  and  the  claims 
of  God  upon  the  lives  of  all  men.  Their 
keen  and  close  interest  showed  their  re- 
spect and  their  spontaneous  applause  at 
the  close  was  proof  that  the  message  had 
at  least  registered.  Now,  no  one  is  so 
117 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

foolish  as  to  believe  that  those  "rough 
horsemen"  went  out  from  that  meeting 
to  give  up  all  their  bad  habits,  but  no 
one  will  dare  deny  that  their  expression 
of  approval  and  appreciation  was  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  Christ  himself  and 
that  they  were  for  the  time  at  least 
better  men. 

A  meeting  in  a  converted  hay-loft  in 
Brouville  was  suddenly  announced  by 
the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  secretary.  The  big 
stone  building  was  used  to  billet  the  sol- 
diers. Their  ''bunks"  filled  almost 
every  available  foot  of  space.  In  one 
corner  a  group  were  playing  cards.  In 
the  middle  of  the  room  a  lank,  angular 
figure  was  "coiled"  about  a  mandolin, 
coaxing  an  old  hymn  from  its  strings. 
Some  were  sleeping,  others  were  chat- 
ting, and  a  few  were  reading  by  the  Hght 
of  tallow  candles.  The  secretary  an- 
nounced the  meeting.  It  was  Sunday 
evening.  Song  books  were  distributed. 
The  mandoUn  player  volunteered  to 
"pitch  the  tune."  Three  or  four  hynms 
118 


MORAL  FLASHES 

suggested  by  the  fellows  were  sung 
heartily.  A  brief  petition  asked  for  for- 
giveness and  blessings  on  the  boys  who 
with  undaunted  courage  would  soon  go 
into  action.  A  few  verses  of  Scripture 
served  to  introduce  the  message  of  the 
hour.  Quietly  but  earnestly  the  prac- 
tical side  of  a  man's  religion  was  pre- 
sented. The  card  game,  which  up  to 
this  time  proceeded  without  disturbance, 
was  now  voluntarily  abandoned  and 
the  players'  attention  riveted  on  the 
speaker.  When  it  was  over  they  quietly 
returned  to  their  game,  more  thought- 
ful, because  they  had  themselves  chosen 
to  hear  the  truth. 

The  Y.  M.  C.  A.  hut  at  Reherrey  was 
a  mile  and  a  half  behind  the  line. 
Briggs  was  the  secretary.  His  fine, 
erect  carriage  and  soldierly  bearing 
brought  him  many  an  unconscious  salute 
from  the  buck  private.  He  was  a  Billy 
Sunday  convert.  "I  have  drunk  enough 
rum  to  float  a  battleship"  was  the  way 
he  told  of  his  wild  career.  The  boys  at 
119 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

Reherrey  loved  and  respected  him.  His 
Bible  class  was  the  most  enthusiastic  I 
saw  in  France.  When  he  announced  a 
Sunday  evening  service  the  hut  was 
filled.  Candles  served  as  chandelier  and 
desk  lamp.  With  a  sergeant  who  was  a 
live  wire  at  the  piano  and  Briggs  as 
song  leader,  the  singing  of  the  fellows 
not  only  "raised  the  roof"  but  it  also 
raised  the  spirits  of  the  men. 

About  half  way  through  the  talk  a 
terrific  explosion  told  us  that  Fritz  was 
getting  busy.  Quietly  all  candles  were 
blown  out.  It  was  a  military  order. 
Aside  from  this  not  a  man  stirred.  The 
message  went  right  on,  punctuated  by 
the  exploding  shells.  There  was  no  fear 
but  an  intense  interest  in  the  great  call 
of  God  to  the  duty  of  the  hour.  At  the 
close  the  men  pressed  forward  to  grip 
the  speaker's  hand,  and  as  we  walked 
out  under  the  stars,  a  widow's  only  son 
acknowledged  that  he  had  long  been  the 
victim  of  the  drink  curse  and  had  broken 
his  mother's  heart.  "I  have  taken  my 
120 


MORAL  FLASHES 

last  drink,"  he  said;  "I  will  write  to  my 
mother,  but  she  cannot  believe  me. 
Won't  you  write  her  too  and  tell  her 
that  her  son  has  given  himself  to  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ?" 

The  most  impressive  thing  to  me 
about  the  religion  of  the  soldiers  was  its 
wholesomeness.  ''Over  there"  a  man 
dared  to  be  natural.  The  mask  of  pre- 
tense was  torn  off.  Men  were  not 
hypocrites  in  the  face  of  death.  They 
were  free;  and  that  freedom  showed 
itself  in  their  religion  as  well  as  in  their 
pleasures.  The  soldier  whom  I  met  in 
the  front  line  trench  with  "Z  need  Thee 
every  hour''  printed  across  the  front 
of  his  gas  mask,  was  not  considered  a 
fanatic. 

And  when  an  American  Bishop  con- 
sented to  share  a  Sunday  night  program 
with  Elsie  Janis,  the  famous  vaudeville 
actress,  the  great  Bishop  became  sud- 
denly greater  in  the  estimation  of  Chris- 
tian and  non-Christian  alike,  and  the 
passionately  expressive-  *'Elsie"  had  a 
121 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

new  and  wholesome  interpretation  put 
upon  her  fun  and  her  jokes  by  the  magic 
which  that  combination  wrought. 

My  plea  is  for  that  type  of  Chris- 
tianity, so  pure  as  to  be  above  reproach 
and  question  and  so  genuinely  human  as 
to  enjoy  the  wit  and  humor  and  even  the 
frivolities  of  life,  its  Christliness  Hfting 
its  pleasures  out  of  the  mists  of  evil  into 
which  we  have  permitted  the  devil  to 
drag  them,  and  placing  them  side  by 
side  with  the  more  serious  considerations 
of  our  hfe  work. 

My  observations  teach  me  that  the 
effort  of  the  army  to  solve  the  funda- 
mental problem  of  the  soldier's  spiritual 
life  met  with  a  large  measure  of  success. 

The  army  took  millions  of  our  boys 
from  every  walk  of  life.  It  sent  two 
and  a  quarter  millions  across  the  sea.  It 
fed  them  an  abundance  of  plain  but 
wholesome  food.  It  gave  them  plenty 
of  hard  exercise  to  convert  that  food 
into  hard  muscle.  It  demanded  atten- 
tion,  so  that  a  keen  mind  directed  a 
122 


MORAL  FLASHES 

strong  body.  It  provided  the  leisure 
hour  with  huts  where  the  touch  of  home 
suggested  the  writing  of  milhons  of 
home  letters  which  otherwise  would 
never  have  been  written.  Concerts, 
lectures,  reading  rooms  with  books  and 
magazines  and  games  of  all  kinds  were 
furnished  to  all — free.  Even  something 
homemade  to  eat  and  drink,  in  addition 
to  the  regular  canteen  supplies,  which 
covered  practically  every  legitimate  de- 
sire of  the  men,  could  be  purchased  at 
reasonable  cost. 

Having  done  all  this  for  his  body  and 
his  mind,  it  took  a  broad  view  of  his 
spiritual  needs,  and  carefully  selected 
chaplains  from  the  various  denomina- 
tions and  creeds  and  sent  them  with  the 
boys  as  their  spiritual  advisers.  So 
splendidly  was  the  choice  of  rehgious 
leaders  made  that  often  on  the  battle- 
field a  Protestant  minister  or  a  Jewish 
rabbi  would  borrow  a  crucifix  and  bring 
the  word  of  comfort  to  a  dying  Cath- 
ohc;  or  a  priest  would  read  the  Bible  or 
123 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  ARGONNE 

the  Prayer  Book  to  a  dying  Jew  or 
Protestant.  On  one  occasion  a  woman 
canteen  worker  aided  a  Jewish  rabbi  to 
give  absolution  to  a  Cathohc  boy  in  a 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  hut  when  a  priest  could  not 
be  secured  in  time.  In  all  this  is  there 
not  more  than  a  hint  for  the  Church  of 
to-morrow? 

These  our  boys,  now  men,  have  come 
back  to  become  the  great  leaders  of  our 
new  civihzation,  and  they  will  be  intol- 
erant of  dogmatic  denominationahsm, 
and  well  they  may.  The  church  that 
holds  their  respect  and  commands  their 
allegiance  must  have  a  world  view  of 
Christianity  and  a  Godlike  love  for  the 
lives  of  all  men.  And  the  theology  of 
to-morrow  must  be  as  broad  as  the 
teachings  of  the  Bible. 


IM 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DTJE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAKtPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

THIS   BOOK  ON  ■'»^J'''^^^^so^rHE  FOURTH 
OVERDUE. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  LIBRARY 


